


In the Shadow of Gods

by AnneWhynn



Category: Halo, Mass Effect
Genre: Crossover, Fictional violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneWhynn/pseuds/AnneWhynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They stand apart from humans as heroes, saviors, and gods among men. But when we stand in the shadows of gods, we fail to see the cost to them. Sometimes the only one that can understand the weight of the universe is someone else who bears it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breathe

**_In the Shadow of Gods_ **

**Chapter I**

_Breathe_

**_.-~*~-._**

Had the mercenary vessel dropped out of FTL forty minutes later, they would have survived. They would have been able to make a jump of their own. As it was, with the couplings between the drives and the Mass Reactor of the _Athens_ still disabled, the deep-space exploratory science vessel was dead in the water, a wounded oceanic mammal of some distant planet, as the predator lowered its head over its barely living prey.

A GARDIAN laser began a relentless barrage into the reinforced plating, aiming directly for the aft power couplings that linked the Mass Reactor to the main drives. Such precision could only come from someone who had an understanding of the internal schematic of the human-designed, decommissioned carrier vessel.

The _Athens_ had never been beautiful, but she had been a marker of human ingenuity, a testament to the achievements of a species in its space-faring infancy. Her Mass Reactor was clumsy by modern standards, but humanity – a species marked by inventing things, and then using those things to kill one another – had prepared for the eventuality of conflict in even the most juvenile of interstellar travels. But now, stripped of her teeth and claws, the _Athens_ was helpless, dead in the water, as death loomed.

The artificial gravity, which had taken the occupants of the vessel two hours to repair, cut off once again. This time it wasn’t just a power overload and rerouting issue. Now it was a crippling fissure in the vessel’s flank that vented atmosphere like gouts of blood.

Scientists of all species cried with renewed alarm as they drifted helplessly through the halls. A moment later the back-up gravitational generators located in several hubs within the Athens kicked into gear, and everyone and everything came crashing back to the deck.

An explosion ripped through the port side of the vessel, blowing off a large section of plate. Those that were not fortunate enough to have been killed instantly in the detonation were pulled into space. Explosive decompression was a thing of ancient myth, but those caught within the vacuum would wish it was not. Blood bubbled in their veins as the boiling temperature of the fluids in their body dropped rapidly. Those who did not scream into the emptiness had a momentary flash of agony as their lungs exploded inside their rib cages. Those who did scream had about fifteen seconds before they passed out, depending on biological composition.

Death was quick, dying was agonising.

The mercenary vessel disgorged smaller transports, all of them finding fissures in the hull of the _Athens._ Stripped of her weapons and devoid of any sort of defensive force aside from a small, almost cursory security detachment more suited to killing varren than other armed forces, the end was inevitable. As the mercenaries trickled through the wounds like maggots into a corpse, everyone aboard knew it as well.

**_.-~*~-._**

_I’m going to die._

Shaking fingers, stained with her own blood, tapped a hasty dance across the access panel. She got the code wrong twice before the iris finally opened into the circular sterilisation chamber that joined the _Athens_ to its discovery.

 _I’m going to die_.

Picking up her stolen weapon, xenoecologist Lauren Kincaid half stumbled, half fell through doorway, closing it behind her. She smeared blood along the dark metal of the floor. Blood from her own injuries, as well as the blood that had soaked into her uniform, splashes of lurid colour from every species. Once, keeping the environment beyond the chamber as clean and natural as possible had been paramount. Now, it was a laughable priority.

Unlike the ship she had come from, the once-glorious SSV _Athens_ , this new vessel was dark, almost crude in its design. Absent were the sleek surfaces and the curved aesthetic that had been adopted from the Mass Relays, or the influences from races such as turian, asari, or salarian. Instead, it was almost Spartan in its design, bare of anything but the bare essentials. Even less than that, in some places. Panels were absent from walls, exposing the wiring within, and there was barely enough lighting to see the passage, necessitating the use of jury-rigged illumination that drew light from the _Athens_.

Lauren tripped over the cabling laid out along the floor for those very lights, falling to her hands and knees. Sobbing, she crawled a few feet to the gun that had fallen from her grasp, almost landing on her face in her haste to rise. Slinging the weapon over her shoulder, she darted to a ladder and began a slow climb, favouring her injured right arm, a hole bored through her bicep and the injury to her right ankle, twisted in her flight.

With a grunt she heaved up the hatch laid over the portal and climbed up. Rolling onto her back, she kicked the panel back into place, crab-walking backwards. Her injured arm gave and she fell onto her back, the wind rushing out of her chest.

 _I’m going to die_.

For a moment, she indulged in her distress, hugging the gun to her chest and crying in the otherwise silent room. She was only thirty-two. She was a genius human who had been given the rare chance to accompany alien scientists to explore the uncharted regions of the Attican Traverse, between Council Space and the Terminus Systems. Places that held fountains of knowledge and endless potential for discovery.

Indeed, one such discovery had been made mere days before, the likes of which had blown the minds of everyone aboard, regardless of their species. Even Lauren had been gripped by the throes of excitement as each moment unveiled the enormity of their discovery.

 _A ship_. Floating in space. Of unknown origin.

And then, on board.

 _A human life form_.

The possibility of life – any life – evolving mirrored on two planets was so astronomically miniscule it might as well be considered impossible. Especially within the same galaxy. It was a subject of lunchroom debates, along with alternate universes and time travel. For someone to _discover_ parallel evolution would shatter their understanding of the galaxy as it stood, especially on the opposite side of the galaxy to Earth. It would be bigger than discovering the Mass Relay technology. Bigger than even if they found a living, breathing Prothean.

But now that they had found it, now that they stood on the cusp of undoing every concept of evolution, they were going to die for that discovery.

 _I don’t want to die_.

Lauren slowly rolled over, struggling to breathe through the last throes of her panic attack. She clawed her way to her hands and knees, dragging her gun behind her. She had lifted it off a security staff member, pulling it from the dead turian’s hands in the chaos. She had a genius-level intellect and a weapon with nearly no kickback was easy for her to use, though aiming was difficult. Not that it mattered. She discovered body shots would do just fine.

Lauren limped to her goal, the massive cryostasis chamber, the only occupied one in the entire vessel.

Lauren beat on the glass with the butt of her stolen weapon, sobbing so hard that she struggled to breathe between the convulsive gasps. “Wake up.” Another blow. “Please wake up!” She rested her shoulder against the glass, her blood slicking the cold surface, and stared at the green armoured humanoid beyond. “They’re coming and we can’t stop them. They’re gonna take you and do who knows what with you. Please. Please wake up.” She flattened her free palm against the glass, nails scratching in vain. “I’m sorry we took that AI! I’m sorry we left you in here! But you have to wake up now.” She hefted the weapon again – lifted from the corpse of a dead security officer – and struck, punctuating each word with another blow. “You! Have! To! Wake! Up!”

**_.-~*~-._**

“Please. _Please_! I don’t know where they took it! _I don’t know_!”

The gun reported once and the human fell backwards with a sickening splat, his brain splashed across the corpses of his fellow scientists, similarly executed when they failed to provide the information requested.

The smoking gun lowered, the air disturbed with a sigh of annoyance. Then the weapon tracked across to the last remaining survivor, a woman. A bullet had destroyed her knee and her face was white with agony and lined with hate-filled defiance. Though tears were tracked on her cheeks, he already knew that this woman would not surrender the information he wanted, even if she did know it.

The gun pointed between her eyes.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” she spat.

The woman’s head snapped back as the bullet shattered the bridge of her nose, sending blood, bone and brain matter spraying out over the wall behind her. Her neural pathways mistook her massacred brain as firing signals, like sparks thrown from an exploded light, sending her limbs into spasms and holding her sitting upright for a moment longer. Then she collapsed forward onto the man in her lap, his own life bled from the myriad of holes in his chest. Fabric uniforms were no armour against withering gunfire.

The mercenary lifted his hand to key the communicator on the side of his helmet. In recent times, all hardsuit HUDs came with a communication interface activated by tracking the neural interface and optical focus, but he preferred the manual interface. “This is Kubric in the labs. Negative on the location of the AI, sir.”

**_.-~*~-._**

At another section of the ship the commander of the detachment, former Systems Alliance Marine Corps Master Sergeant Thomas Helmsley, rested his rifle against his shoulder and scowled. “It’s not there?”

+ _If it was here, it’s been moved_.+

“Moved where?”

+ _They didn’t leave a note_.+

Helmsley bit the inside of his cheek against the smartass response. He was a goddamn Master Sergeant for a reason, and he expected some respect from this moronic group of gun-happy dickheads. Apparently, however, that was too much to ask for. The undisciplined lot couldn’t make a formation if he painted a marker on the floor for each of their feet, let alone understand how to use proper radio contact.

Helmsley jerked his hand at a nearby trooper, who dragged the bruised and bloody drell male toward them. His frills were puffed in fear, and his hardened carapace was cracked, the softer, fleshier parts darkening from the repeated blows.

“Where is the AI?”

The drell stared at it, his inner lids flicking rapidly. Then he closed his eyes.

“Arashu, goddess of protection, take m-”

The bullet cut off his inane prayer to his non-existent deity and Helmsley groaned in exasperation.

“This is a ship full of _fucking scientists_.” He spoke on the open comm channel. “Are you telling me that they are hiding a goddamn _AI_ from you? It’s not like we’re looking for a credit chit. Someone show me some innovation and _get me that goddamn AI_.”

+ _Helmsley_.+

His eye twitched. The voice belonged to one of the shadow operatives attached to Helmsley’s force and spoke on that very open channel, letting everyone hear him. Normally consisting only frontline troops, the addition of the two assassins had left Helmsley with a foul taste in his mouth. He was never one for covert ops, and Kardevich and Fielding epitomised the reasons behind it. Helmsley had some unstable, trigger-happy thugs in his group that barely had a sentient thought between them, but Kardevich and Fielding were pure, A-grade psychopaths.

“What is it, Fielding?”

+ _I found the first subject_.+

“Good. I am glad that you were able to find the single living organism on a vessel that is a _quarter_ of the size of this one. Can you ask your very happy guide to disclose a potential secondary location they might have taken the second subject extracted from the vessel?”

A beat.

“What?”

+ _I already killed him_.+

Hemlsey bored his fist into his forehead.

+ _Wait. We have a volunteer_.+

**_.-~*~-._**

Lauren knelt at the base of the cyrostasis pod, panting, sobbing, and trying not to throw up. She couldn’t get it open. There was no release catch. There was no emergency open valve. Or, at least, if there was, she couldn’t locate it. She was dizzy, but she couldn’t be sure if it was from pain, or blood loss, or fear. When a shadow passed over her, she didn’t process the danger at first. Instead she lifted her head in an exhausted fugue and froze when she realised that she was no longer alone.

He was slender, lithe, and clad in a form-fitting combat suit that seemed halfway between a skinsuit, which was typically worn beneath an external armour set on soldiers, and technological augmentations. Indeed, the man could have been a cyborg if it wasn’t for the subtle bunching of microfabric around his joints. His head was wrapped entirely in a cowl, a single ocular lens located over his left eye, and connected to a visor that extended around the right side of his head.

In one hand he held a bladed weapon, slick with red blood.

The blood had Lauren moving, and she shoved backwards from the cyrochamber, her gun falling away, forgotten. Her injured arm took her weight for a second and then finally gave out. As she fell, a hand wrapped in her hair and jerked her up. She gasped – all she could manage, before she was swung sideways and thrown into the cryochamber she had been trying to open. The wind rushed out of her and she started to slide down. Her attacker grabbed her face, wrapping his gloved hand around her mouth, holding her still.

“Do not scream.”

Lauren trembled violently as she stared at him, tears welling in her eyes. She was going to die. She knew it. She knew she was going to die. The sword twirled and the bloody tip rested against Lauren’s cheek. “I will lift my hand, and when I do, I want one answer. Fail to give me the answer I want, and I will carve out your eye.” His hand lifted slowly. “Where is the AI?”

**_.-~*~-._**

Three thousand kilometres out a ship dropped out of FTL and began its silent cruise toward the conflict. Sleek and fast, the white vessel was designed for infiltration without detection. Seven hours prior they had picked up a strange distress signal that begged investigation. The only Council-sanctioned vessel in the vicinity, they had immediately plotted a course to the _Athens_ , a private exploratory science vessel. Strategic pathway planning by the talented pilot and his genius on-board AI suite had plotted a course around an exploding star that had slingshot them into a nearby Mass Relay’s range, cutting their travel time down by two hours.

In the belly of the vessel, a three-man team – actually a one-male, two female team – was arming for the coming fight. Armour seals were checked and rechecked, ammunition stores were maxed out, and the debriefing was quick and curt. They knew their mission. A civilian scientific exploration vessel had released a distress call. Whilst the contents were confusing, the important message was not lost in translation – they needed help, and now.

+ _We’re on approach. Three minutes to contact. And we are not alone._ ”

**_.-~*~-._**

+ _Sir!_ \+ As Helmsley contemplated randomly shooting someone in his frustration, he heard the communications officer and XO of his frigate, the _Venom_ , burst into his ear with a gut-wrenching sense of urgency. + _We are being hailed_!+

 _Hailed_? “Patch it through, Kreis.”

There was a burst of static as the XO did just that. + _Unknown vessel. This is Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance Na_ -+

Helmsley didn’t even wait for her to finish. “Helmsley to _Venom_. Engage the _Normandy_!”

+ _Venom engaging. Opening fire. Pulling away from the_ Athens _. We are in pursuit_.+

“Radio me with a kill and no sooner.” He clenched his fist. Commander Abigail _fucking_ Shepard. Of all the things that could be among the last things he wanted to encounter, she had to be right at the bottom of the list. “And tell the _Deliverance_ that the _Normandy_ is here.” As much as it galled him to admit it, they were going to need reinforcements. Shepard’s three-man teams were infamous in wrecking everything in their path, and his ragtag group of dumbasses with guns wasn’t going to be able to stop her any more than the Blue Suns or Blood Pack.

“This is Helmsley to all forces. Execute all prisoners. No survivors. Prepare to withdraw.” Helmsley began striding from the FOB, throwing up a hand signal to begin to disassemble and pack it away. “Get a team to Subject One and prepare for extraction. Fielding. Have you made progress on the AI?”

 _Oh come on_. Helmsley came to a stop and pressed his finger to his ear comm, as if that would somehow conjure Fielding’s voice. “Fielding. Please respond. Have you made progress to the AI’s location?” As the silence stretched, Helmsley wondered what else could possibly be going wrong. “Kardevich.”

+ _He is not responding to my comms, either_ ,+ hissed the accented voice in his ear. It sounded like Kardevich was running. No doubt already hurling himself to find Fielding.

Helmsley felt sick. Fielding was a psychopath, but he was also a professional. He would respond to comms. Especially if his ‘blood brother’ Kardevich was also trying to hail him. Something had gone wrong at the first subject, and the second subject was still MIA. Now Shepard had arrived with the cavalry.

This was going to shit, and fast.

  **_.-~*~-._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome one and all to my very first fanfiction on AO3! For those of you that are new, you probably won’t know this rewrite has been a year in the making. For those that aren’t, well, here it is! Finally. The first chapter of my rewrites. I hope it satisfies!  
>  **For new readers:** In the Shadow of Gods is a speculative fiction that is not meant to be a comparison of the Halo and Mass Effect universes. It is meant to be a character-driven fiction about what would happen if Spartan 117/Master Chief/John met Commander Shepard, specifically a female Commander Shepard. It is set in the Mass Effect verse because I am far, far more familiar and comfortable with the Mass Effect verse, and because I find greater joy in writing in the Mass Effect verse (for now).  
>  I must stress that you should not focus on the ‘what ifs’ of game mechanics. Who beats who, and who does what, and what should happen takes a back seat to plot and character-driven interaction. Sometimes I will mince the mechanics, sometimes I will give things a helping nudge. If you are coming to this story looking for a definitive ‘The Chief Beats All’ or ‘Femshep Is A Badass Mofo’ outcome, you have come to the wrong place. I intend to explore the nature of humanity and the human soul, the loss and sacrifices of war, the price of peace, and the cost of being a hero. Dark and gritty are my forte, and I will be going there in this fanfic. I hope you enjoy!  
>  **For everyone!:** If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to ask me. Send me a message. Or hit me up on my blog! http://annewhynnfanfiction.tumblr.com/ is my tumblr. Submits and asks are always open, and anon is always on if you want to ask something.  
>  If you want to email me, my email is annewhynn@gmail.com! Feel free to drop me a line! Since I’m an unemployed postgraduate student, I also have a Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/annewhynn) for anyone who wishes to donate to me. Thank you all, take care, be safe, and see you in the next chapter!


	2. Starcrossed

**Chapter II**

_Starcrossed_

**_.-~*~-._**

Lights panned an austere interior as a trio of boots made their way along the darkened hallway. Any holes made by the unknown mercenary vessel into the _Athens_ would either be unsafe or, if viable, guarded. But the unknown vessel to which the _Athens_ was tethered would have an access walkway that allowed the crew to pass back and forth. It was for that walkway that they now searched. In the meantime, however, they took in their unfamiliar surroundings. It lacked all of the recognisable aesthetic of Mass Relay technology, yet somehow looked more advanced. Rudimentary, yet developed. Three sets of boots advanced through the dimly lit corridors.

A five-fingered hand slid away from the stencilled letters UNSC. “This is the same name from the distress signal. But the signal came from the _Athens_. And this isn’t a science vessel. It’s a military one.”

+ _It certainly looks that way_ \+ The flanging voice of a turian in her ear, distorted by the transmission through their commlink. + _Maybe they found a survivor aboard_?+

+ _It is unlike any vessel I have ever seen before._ \+ Between the turian and the human walked the violet-shrouded quarian. Her omnitool threw orange light across her battle visor as she scanned the interior, mapping it into an internal schematic. + _I can’t find any silhouette’s that match it on any database_.+

“Same as EDI.” Commander Abigail Shepard lowered her shotgun and turned to scan a side corridor, examining the floating dust particles that reflected the light of her helmet. Then she focused on the direction ahead. The dust particles moved faster. “This way.”

Only a few steps into the corridor and they found an open hatch at the beginning of a long hallway. But what was more important to them was the scene that was laid out in the illumination of the light struts laid out along the wide corridor, which was more like a room. A corpse laid sprawled out on the decking, brown hair matted with a pool of blood and framed by two rows of cylindrical chambers. One of those chambers was broken open crudely, but the others appeared whole. Abigail flicked her hand and sent Garrus to check the body as she and Tali moved around the perimeter.

Shepard’s light caught an irregular reflection on the ground. “I have blood.” She crouched and touched it. “Coagulated. But the interior is cold. It could-”

+ _Shepard_.+

The interruption was out of character, but she recognised the catch in Garrus’ voice. A catch that came whenever he saw something that upset him, and drove him to extreme anger.

“What is it?”

Rather than answer, the turian just looked across the body toward her. When she approached, she quickly saw the reason for his rage. Before her lay a human woman, early thirties at the latest. She wore a bloodied science uniform and she was laid out on her back, arms crossed over her chest. Her one remaining eye was closed, rimmed red from weeping. The other…

Shepard crouched down beside the woman’s body, scowling. Garrus stood and took up her task of checking the room. She laid her shotgun to the side as she took stock of the injuries, how they were inflicted, and where. “They’re looking for something. They tortured this woman for information. But this was quick. Messy.” Abigail stripped one glove off and touched her tearstained cheek. “She’s cool. Whoever did this, we weren’t going to be in time to save her.”

+ _I’m guessing it was this guy_.+

Shepard turned as Garrus lifted a corpse tossed unceremoniously to one side. Tali, who had been hovering away from the scene, recoiled further with a gasp of disgust. The only way Shepard could guess it was human was the body shape and the colour of the blood. The face was a pulped mess of broken bone, ruptured flesh, and sliding brain matter. The remains of the head barely connected to the neck and lolled grotesquely.

+ _Lividity hasn’t set in_.+ Garrus lowered the corpse and picked up a knife. It was slick with red blood. The C-Sec officer was reading the crime scene. + _He must have died around the same time she did._ +

+ _His head is…_ crushed,+ whispered Tali.

Commander Shepard turned back to the corpse, inspecting a smear of blood on her sleeve.

+ _Whoever crushed this guy’s head crossed her arms over her chest_?+ continued the quarian.

“There’s brain matter on her sleeve.”

Garrus’ head snapped around and he focused on Shepard, and she knew he was thinking the same as her. If there was brain matter on her sleeve, then that would mean that whoever crushed that man’s head had to have touched him with his _hand_. Reasonably, it was possible for him to have dipped his hand into the mess of the man’s cranium, but it was far more logical – and terrifying – to think of a more direct means of transference.

Garrus began to speak, but with great trepidation. + _That’s over two hundred kilograms of force, Shepard. I know you can do that, but that’s with augmentations…_ _And biotics_.+

+ _Are you telling me that whoever crushed this man’s head did so with their_ hands _?_ +

Abigail didn’t say it, but blood on one sleeve and not the other indicated that if it had been done with a hand, it had only been done with _one_. Abigail stood and stepped back from the corpse. Then, slowly, she turned to look at the one broken chamber. Mist seeped from the interior.

“Are the others empty?”

Tali stammered for a second as she grasped what Abigail was clearly thinking. + _They are all empty from what I have seen. There is an accumulation of settled dust at their base as well. They haven’t been occupied recently._ +

Abigail dropped her eyes to the base of the broken chamber and saw evidence of the dust being disturbed, swept aside. More importantly, there was shards of glass amongst it. As she crouched to check it, Garrus peered inside the fracture chamber.

“This one was. Recently.”

+ _It’s been broken from the inside._ \+ He looked at Shepard. + _Whatever broke out of a cryostsis chamber definitely had the strength to crush that man’s head_.+

+ _And then crossed her arms over her chest_?+ Tali’s voice was incredulous.

Shepard had to agree. Such brutality contrasted sharply with such consideration. What would have been capable of it?

“If it was right here,” murmured Abigail, more to herself than the others, “then it wasn’t what that woman was tortured for.”

+ _Access codes maybe_?+ suggested Garrus.

“No. Something-” Shepard went silent, eyes narrowing.

Something slithered down Shepard’s spine. An insidious whisper of danger. She felt the world slow down between two heartbeats. She saw Garrus’ rifle come up, more in response to her word than any perceived danger. Shepard planted her foot and moved backwards in a wash of blue light. Her hand formed first, her body rematerializing in a wave along the limb. Snagging Tali’s wrist, the human pulled the quarian out of the way of the assassin’s blade aimed at her back.

The blade slid along Abigail’s side, slicing into and through her hardsuit as Abigail angled her shotgun up and fired twice. The assassin threw itself backwards, flipping out of the way of both rounds from the Raider twin-fire shotgun. Abigail tossed the weapon aside and drew her Carnifex. It was textbook to kill a reloading enemy.

Rather than retreat, the assassin lunged at Abigail, slicing with his sword. She dodged easily, dipping under the incoming blade edge. Garrus lined up a shot, but the assassin twirled, putting Abigial between them. Rather than clear the shot, Abigail advanced on the assassin, firing twice. When he dodged the bullets, she slammed her boot into the metal. Dust flew upwards a biotic train surged toward him, clipping his foot when he tried to land and sending him spinning.

He recovered in less than the time it took her heart to beat. The assassin closed the distance in two long steps and drove an electro-glove at Shepard’s face but the Commander grabbed his wrist and spun him, ripping him off his feet. The assassin’s boots landed on the wall and he whirled as he launched himself off, forcing her to let go. Rather than step back, Abigail charged inwards in a surge of biotics, her shoulder striking him in the chest. He was flung backwards and landed in a frog-crouch on a cryostasis chamber. Launching himself up, he snagged a pipe above his head and threw himself at the Commander.

She darted backwards in a burst of biotics, leaving him kicking only empty air. When one toe touched the ground, he turned to face the Commander just as she charged back into his range. The fist that struck his face knocked him clear off his feet, not just from the biotic detonation, but from the impact alone. His visor smashed and his HUD sparked and died as his shoulders bounced off the ground. His legs flew up over his head and he tried to catch himself, barely able to get to his toes.

When he managed to get up on one elbow, Shepard was there, a brutal kick aimed at his head. He blocked it with one arm and the blow drove his forearm into his already bleeding face. His head snapped back on his neck and he went flying backwards, dispersing the impact along his body rather than having his head ripped off his shoulders. She levelled her Carnifex at his sliding body. Desperately, he fired his charge glove at the wall, knocking him out of the way with the kickback. He bounced off the wall and landed in an ungraceful heap on the ground. By the time the round clipped the ground where he stood, he had fled down the access hatch.

“After him!” Abigail reloaded her Carnifex as Garrus threw her shotgun at her, already reloaded. Clamping her Carnifex to her hip, she keyed her comm as the team of three chased the assassin. “Shepard to breach team. Progress?”

**_.-~*~-._**

_The Venom_

Gunfire pinged off of Legion’s external carapace, covered in extra armour for a frontal assault. It was not accustomed to such an action, but it mimicked the motions it had observed in Crewmember Grunt and Crewmember Thane. When a punch was necessary, it was able to disable the victim with a single blow. When a sidestep was necessary, it moved with a reactionary speed that a purely organic creature would have been incapable of matching. It did not wish to kill the humans it encountered, but Shepard-Commander had both stated that it would be necessary, and told it that it was its mission. Legion would not disappoint the Commander.

Legion approached a door and it took 1.7 seconds for fifty-three of its programs to interface with the panel and open it, completing the task so swiftly that Legion did not need to break its stride as it walked through the doorway. A rocket sailed through the air and Legion activated its geth shield boost, rocking backwards as the impact was absorbed by the shimmering kinetic barrier. When the smoke cleared, Legion had its automatic rifle in its hands, and mowed down the small team defending the command and control centre for the vessel.

This door took a little bit more effort to disable – 1.98 seconds and seventy-one programs – but soon enough that door was open as well. Legion lifted both arms, both brandishing weapons, and swept the room with its optics once. Each hand fired, and the humans inside died.

Once the area was clear, it lowered its weapon and approached a nearby console. It was locked to external interference, and remote interfacing had been disabled, no doubt the reason why Legion had been unable to initiate a handshake the moment it came into range. It did not matter. Driving its fist through the metal plate it exposed the delicate wiring beneath and grasped it with one hand. In doing so, Legion turned itself into a giant antennae.

“Ex-Operative Lawson. We have begun handshake. The bridge is secured.”

+ _Copy that, Legion._ +

A moment later, Miranda Lawson and Samara appeared in the bridge, each of them having completed their own tasks of disabling external communications and the weapons room. To Legion’s external assessment, both looked unharmed, although Ex-Operative Lawson appeared to have a burn mark on her right arm.

+ _Shepard to breach team. Progress_?+

Five of Legion’s processes noted that Shepard was slightly out of breath, inhaling at .23% faster rate than at rest. At Miranda’s nod, Legion reported their situation. “Shepard-Commander. We have successfully neutralised the hostile forces aboard the strike vessel. They were as hostile as you expected. Internal scan reveals no remaining life forms. Hand-shake with EDI has been successful. Downloading internal data banks now.”

+ _Good job, Legion. Keep me posted. And get control of that vessel_.+

Of all the programs within Legion’s platform, not a single one of them noticed the significance of the way its central aperture lifted at the praise.

**_.-~*~-._**

“ _Venom._ Respond. _Venom_!”

There was only a burst of static in Helmsley’s ear. There had been no warning. No call. Suddenly they were offline. If the _Venom_ was down, his team had no extraction unless the _Deliverance_ came for them, and if he called for aid from the _Deliverance_ , he was as good as dead. His commander had been implicit in her warning. Failure on the _Athens_ would not be tolerated. She wanted the subjects. Both of them.

Now Subject Two, the ‘highly advanced and hostile AI’ was missing, and Subject One was tearing through his forces as a one-man army, decimating everything in his path.

He was a dead man.

“ _Venom_. _ANSWER ME_.”

His mercenaries were withdrawing toward the vessel to which the _Athens_ was docked. If nothing else, they could secure it and cut their losses. And if his men could get their shit together and kill Subject One, their commander might be mollified at the loss of the AI. For that, however, the _Venom_ would be needed for extraction. Helmsley doubted that it would be able to destroy the _Normandy_ , but it could drive it off for long enough to return and secure the ship.

“Get ready to anchor the ship to the _Venom_. We’ll blow the docking hatch and tow it to the _Deliverance_.”

+ _Sir, we were told to secure the entire vessel. If we do that there is a chance we’ll damage the integrity_ -+

“I really don’t give a crap,” spat Helmsley, cutting off the pragmatic soul who thought to voice a very real concern. “We’re getting out of here with Subject One at the very goddamn least. Charge team, are we set to go?”

The team that had been sent to lay the detonation charges that would separate the _Athens_ from the vessel barely had time to open the channel to report their progress when Kardevich’s voice rang loudly through the comm’s priority channel – a channel reserved for Helmsley and their commander.

+ _She’s already on board! She’s inside the ship!_ +

“Who is?!” Even as he roared down the channel, Helmsley knew the answer.

+ _Who the fuck do you think?!_ +

A moment later the charge team was reporting contact. Helmsley stood helplessly as he listened to them die over the comms.

  **_.-~*~-._**

Kardevich reeled at his loss. Subject One had killed his brother. He had overheard enough to know that Shepard and her team were not responsible for Peter’s death. But now he had to find Subject One to exact his revenge on the green behemoth. Superfluous questions floated in his mind. How had it woken? Why had it killed his brother, who should have known they wanted it alive? And why was it killing everything in front of it?

Ultimately, those questions didn’t matter. Subject One killed his brother. Therefore Subject One would have to die.

Bound by bloodletting rather than blood, Matvei Kardevich and Peter Fielding had been brought together in a mutual love for violence that they had only fuelled in one another. In lesser men it might have bred a rivalry, but in Kardevich and Fielding it had brought forth a love stronger than romance or family. They were one and the same.

Now his other half was dead, and Kardevich wanted _vengeance_. He did not flee from Shepard. No. He wanted to find Subject One before Shepard did. Before Helmsley. Before even his beloved commander did. As much as he cherished her and what she did for him, he wanted Subject One _dead_ for taking Peter from him.

Kardevitch burst into a room and came to a stop when he saw the corpses. Mercenaries were laid out atop scientists. A fresh explosion had blown a hole in a wall. Sparks danced in a waterfall from the ruptured metal.

“Kardevitch on all channels. Where is Subject One?” Shepard’s punch had nearly destroyed his vision, but at least his communications remained unharmed.

The frequencies were chaos. Reports of contact with Commander Shepard as well as a call of confusion as to Subject One’s location.

+ _What do you mean you lost it_!?+ roared Helmsley, almost deafening Kardevich. + _It’s a seven foot tall armoured humanoid with guns._ +

Kardevitch swore as he disabled his comms. So much for that. He scanned the carnage. Time to do this the old way. He could take Shepard, he knew that. He could destroy her. She was nothing, no matter how augmented and skilled. But he couldn’t take Shepard _and_ Subject One, and he had a priority.

Swirling his sword around, the assassin returned to the hunt.

**_.-~*~-._**

_Cortana_ …

A litany. A prayer. Find her. Find her.

Blood sprayed. Bright red. So startling. When was the last time he had drawn red blood?

 _Cortana_.

“ _Contact_!”

Reflexes almost superhumanly fast threw his shoulder back. The rocket-propelled explosive device slid past him, kissing the metal of his thoracic plate and flaking off a small piece of green. The world returned to the correct speed and he crossed the distance in two steps, grabbing the offending weapon and tearing it away. A mammoth swing of his arm brought it down on the helmeted head of the firer, shattering the yellow visor and sending bone, brain and hair splashing across the metal floor.

 _Cortana_.

A sparking device thudded onto his right arm, magnetically adhering to the MJOLNIR armour. There was a painful tingling and his arm went limp, his gun falling from useless fingers. Spinning, he kicked the weapon, sending it whirling through the air, the barrel impaling the offending attacker through the head.

He skidded past a door and slammed his arm into the wall, smashing the device. Slowly, feeling began to return to his fingertips.

 _Where is she_?

He had abandoned her once. Left her to the mercy of the Gravemind. Wherever she was now, wherever this place might be, he would not do it again.

An image flashed before his eyes. So real. Life size, for a normal human. Her gaze directed up at him. _John_.

An armoured human ran around the corner and the Chief’s arm snapped out, despite the numbness. He struck through Cortana’s imagined form, and broke the metal armoured chest plate, shattering the rib cage beneath. The man’s heart stopped from the force of the blow.

His mind worked like a supercomputer, processing small snippets of information as it came to him. This was a ship. Outside was space. His enemies were humans. Among the victims on the ground were unarmed aliens in what looked like some form of uniform. Aliens he had never seen before. An absence of the aliens he recognized. He did not recognise the technology or design of his surroundings. The weapons were entirely foreign in construct, though familiar in function.

 _Unfamiliar territory_. The thought accompanied a sort of relaxed understanding. He was fighting in unfamiliar territory. Against a familiar foe. Not a single human aboard this vessel could stand up against him.

The Chief recalled, briefly, his surroundings and the journey he had taken. Aliens he didn’t recognize. Human combatants he didn’t recognize. Technology he did not recognize. This was not what he was familiar with. Quickly, he came up with three possibilities.

 _Extended cryosleep_. He was in the distant future, many years after the Covenant invasion and the Halo rings.

 _This is a human splinter group and I have strayed far from Earth_. It was possible that some interstellar travel had splintered off from the main human force. Either deliberately or accidentally. Given enough time, through the relativity of faster than light travel, they may have been isolated from the rest of humanity and encountered other aliens.

 _This is a cryosleep dream_. Impossible. It was too lucid for a dream. Too real. Too coherent and long. Besides, from what he knew, he did not dream in cryosleep. No one did.

 _Cortana_.

Nothing else was important. She was on board. She was here somewhere.

She had to be.

“Cortana,” he breathed into his helmet mic, open frequency. “Where are you?”

**_.-~*~-._**

“Shepard.”

Shepard turned her head to the side as a missile detonated against her biotic shield, spreading fire over the dome at the end of her arm. Sweeping her hand aside, she engaged her biotics to charge through the work station between herself and the rocket trooper. Stuffing the barrel of her Raider under his chin, she blew everything above his neckline into a red mist.

“What?”

+ _I have someone talking over an open channel. It’s faint. But I think I can patch in_.+ Tali had one hand to the side of her helmet as she stared at the readout on her omnitool.

“Patch me through,” ordered Shepard.

A moment later, a deep voice rumbled through her commlink. + _Cortana. Where are you_? _Cortana. If you can hear me, I’m awake and in the ship. Can you pinpoint my location and guide me to you? Cortana_?+

Awake and in the ship. The inhabitant of the cyrostasis pod?

“Tali, have you patched us into his comm?”

“Not yet.” Now closer to Abigail, and without the cacophony of combat, Tali could speak to Shepard instead of being forced to use comms.

“Good. Hold off a moment. EDI.”

+ _Commander_.+

“Find me a ship’s manifest for the _Athens_. Look for anyone named ‘Cortana’.” When EDI confirmed her order, Shepard opened the channel.

**_.-~*~-._**

The Chief felt a twinge of pain in his side. He couldn’t tell if it was a broken rib, a tearing muscle, or a cryo burn being irritated by the chafing of his armour. It was ignorable, but was one of many injuries he was now noting on his body. A sprained ankle. What felt like a fractured bone in his left arm. A mild concussion. Things he could shake off were they one, or even a few, at a time. But all together they were starting to hinder his progress.

+ _Can you hear me_?+

The Chief froze when he heard the female voice in his ear, coming through his commlink. It was not Cortana. Nor any voice he recognized.

+ _My name is Commander Abigail Shepard of the Systems Alliance Navy. I am here to help._ +

The Chief shut down his commlink.

**_.-~*~-._**

“He’s closed comms.”

“It was a good attempt?” There was a shrug in Garrus’ voice as they ran down the corridor.

“I’ll keep trying. Let’s just keep moving toward him.”

EDI’s voice came next to Shepard’s ear. + _Commander. I see no one aboard named Cortana. But I do have a record of something being retrieved from the unknown vessel._ +

“What ‘something’?”

+ _Whoever logged the record did not directly state what it was_. _The crew of the_ Athens _are very careful to note there are two subjects of interest. One in a cyrostasis chamber. Humanoid. Armoured. Taller than average. Green. Of the other subject, they make little mention other than it was removed._ +

“Lovely,” murmured Shepard. “I love it when scientists keep secrets. That always goes well.”

+ _Shepard._ +

Abigail came to a stop and touched her helmet. “I read you, Joker.”

Joker’s voice dripped trepidation. + _Something just dropped out of FTL near the gas giant, Shepard. Dreadnought-sized but it’s got a forward array that makes the Collector beam look like a laser pointer. It’ll destroy the_ Normandy. _And the_ Athens _._ +

Abigail looked at the other two, her terse expression hidden behind her visor. “Miranda.”

+ _We’re on the move, Shepard. We can set this ship on a collision course with the incoming vessel_.+

“Do it. Then get your asses back to the _Normandy_.”

+ _What about you, Shepard_?+ asked Miranda.

Abigail turned and jogged down the corridor. “I have a ship full of dead scientists and one man that seems to be the reason why. I intend to get him off alive and find out that reason.”

Joker’s grim voice responded. + _You better make it fast, Commander. That ship’s just doubled its speed. You have thirty minutes. Tops._ +

**_.-~*~-._**

“ _He did what_!?”

They had heard Helmsley drill them. They had heard him put his face in theirs and roar until their ears rang. They had heard his bellow ripping them from sleep and sending them flying into their clothes.

They had never heard him like this before.

“Kardevich called it in.” The merc’s chin went up, even though he was shaking in his boots. “Sir, with all due respect, wasn’t that the right thing to do? The mission’s a bust.”

“That’s the last thing we want to tell her!”

 “We need help!”

“She’s not gonna give us help!” A hand wrapped around the collar of the mercenary’s armour and he was shoved backwards, slamming into a desk behind him so hard that it skidded backwards. Helmsley bore down on him a lethal roar. “ _She’ll kill you_.”

Silence reigned as the mercenaries around them registered his vehemence not as fear for himself, but fear for them. For the gutter scum and Omega trash that he trained up. For the men and women that he spent hours with, turning them into a semi-effective mercenary force.

Helmsley shoved away from the stunned merc and turned to face the horrified onlookers, gawking like Citadel citizens at a public display of emotion from the Consort herself.

“We’re ghosts here.” Helmsley was no longer yelling. His voice was deathly quiet. A rumble of sinister lethality. “We were meant to get in and get out. No evidence left. Yeah we encountered some resistance, but that was to be expected. “We had one job. _One_. Get in, get the subjects, get out. But if she finds out Shepard’s here? We’re a liability. We’re compromised. The only way we were getting out of this alive was if _she_ didn’t find out until we got back. And then, _maybe_ , I was the only one who was gonna take the heat for it. Our commander isn’t stupid. She isn’t sentimental. We’re all walking, talking witnesses. Shepard gets us in a room with some vibro-blades and her fists? One of you morons is going to talk.”

Helmsley walked over and picked up his rifle. “Keep looking for the AI. I’m going after Subject One. And when I make the call, take the small shuttles and head back to the _Deliverance_. Tell her I ordered you to return on grounds of success. Enough of my people have died today.”

“Sir-”

Helmsley walked out of the room.

**_.-~*~-._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to portray some more enduring characters in this chapter, and demonstrate that the Mercenaries aren't just faceless cannon fodder. Well. Some of them aren't. I am not sure how I feel about the chapter, but that's that! Let me know what you think, if you see any grammatical errors, etcetera.
> 
> As always, please leave a comment if you liked the story. They really keep me going! If you want, please feel free to visit me at my blog http://annewhynnfanfiction.tumblr.com/ or shoot me an email at annewhynn@gmail.com. As always, I love you all, please take care.
> 
> Anne


	3. Hard Contact

**Chapter Three**

_Hard Contact_

**_.-~*~-._**

The Chief stood in the middle of the room as the last of the armoured attackers fell around him, their bodies piling atop the cooling, fabric-clad forms of what looked like more science personnel. It was some kind of vast mess hall, although the tables were heavy and bolted to the floor. Perhaps to combat the loss of internal gravity. Walkways lined the ceiling above him, and he kept a keen eye on them as he moved about.

_I am here to help._

Could he trust those words? Could it be a trap set up by the humans who seemed determined to kill him? He lowered the gun and stared at the double doorway at the end, the metal panels cratered outwards.

The woman who had tried to communicate with him had done so calmly, stating a military rank. Could he believe her? Was she here to help? Help who? _Commander Abigail Shepard_. That was a senior officer. But she stated she was from the Systems Alliance Navy. All English. All words he understood. But an organisation he had never heard before. He had never even heard of a hint of a ‘Systems Alliance’. For the first time, the Chief wondered if he had somehow slept a century or more away. Had there been some form of coup? Had the UNSC been ousted for this ‘Systems Alliance’?

Too many unknowns.

And what did that mean for Cortana?

He glanced down at the floor, where yet another dead alien – this one amphibian in nature – lay sprawled out. Small, delicate. Haloed with green vitae. Not like any alien he had seen. Or even the Covenant, given Cortana’s extensive access to their own AI.

All he knew, for sure, was that Cortana was somewhere aboard the ship. He had heard the screams of the woman, the whispered voice of her torturer. _Where is the AI_? Her defiance as she refused to divulge the information dragged him from his slumber. But that was only possible if the defrosting process had begun. His heart had to be beating, his brain working, for the sound to reach him.

 _Cortana tried to wake me_. And he had failed to rouse.

 _Failed_.

The word rang with a dark finality that wrenched something in his chest and John closed his eyes.

 _I won’t leave you. I swear it_.

Grasping his pilfered gun tighter, he stared at the room ahead, eyes hard. He had no idea who this Commander Shepard was, but in the off chance that she might help him find Cortana…

What did he have to lose?

The Chief took a deep breath as he finished clearing the room in front of him, stepping over the fresh corpses. He tried to process what he had just learned with a coherent mind. As much as he was loathe to do it, he had to push aside his concerns for Cortana and properly assess the situation.

He and Cortana were in wholly unfamiliar territory. A Spartan was used to working alone, without aid or backup, but this was not an environment he had been trained for. He knew _nothing_ of his surroundings. Of his situation. He had no footing on which to stand in any sort of familiarity. If he was displaced by time, then he needed to be briefed on the situation of humanity and Earth. He did not want to accidentally spark an interspecies war with his clumsiness.

 _Unfamiliar territory_. Gather information.

 _Locate human allies_. Done, to an extent.

This woman, this commander, was offering him aid. As much as the Chief hated to admit it, he needed it.

The Chief prepared to open the channel, a form filled the doorway, armoured, helmetless, and armed. John ducked to the side, dropping to one knee behind cover. The expected gunfire did not come. Cautiously, he peered around the heavy table, bolted to the floor.

A hand was thrust from behind the now-empty doorway, waving. “Whoa, whoa. I’m coming out, okay? I just wanna talk to you.”

The Chief kept his weapon up as the man emerged from hiding. He wore the same uniform as the ones who had attacked him, black and red, but his right shoulder had a white stripe. An officer of some kind?

“My name’s Drefrey Kepper,” the man said as he stood in the open, hands up, staring at the Chief with wide-eyed earnestness. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Silence reigned as the Chief stared him down.

“Look. I’m sorry those men shot at you. We have hostiles on board and I think they thought you were them. No offense, but you weren’t exactly forthcoming in your identity.”

The Chief didn’t need to glance at the dead around him. This man seemed quite unbothered that the Spartan had butchered his fellow soldiers, mistaken identity or no.

Bolstered by the Chief’s apparent willingness to listen, the man continued, “We were ordered to retrieve you, alive and whole, and get you safely out of here. In fact, we’re on orders to withdraw now. We can take you with us. Our commander’s on the way as we speak.”

“Who are you with?”

A barely perceptible hesitation. “An allied coalition that serves humanity’s best interests in a politically troublesome time. I swear, if you come with me, we can explain everything. It’s not safe here.” The man stepped forward, hands held out in earnest.

Men filled the doorway behind him, weapons down, moving cautiously, warily.

“Don’t mind them. They’re just worried you’re gonna pull my head off my shoulders.”

The Chief’s jaw flexed inside his helmet. “Where am I?”

“I honestly don’t know. My orders were just to find and bring you back safely.”

The two of them stared at one another for the longest time. The Chief wanted to know why civilians were dead. What were humanity’s best interests? How were they meant to be looking out for them?

He remembered the brutal screams of the human woman.

 _Where is the AI_?

John clenched his fingers on his stolen weapon. Cortana was aboard a vessel filled with people whose loyalties he did not know, in the middle of a political situation that was as tenuous as he had feared it might be. If he went with this man, would he be making the right choice?

Did this man’s forces already have Cortana?

“Who is Commander Shepard?”

The name had an immediate reaction. The man’s face tightened. The men behind him tightened their stances, and their grips on their weapons.

“An enemy combatant. Trust me, you don’t want to know her. She’s an enemy of humanity.”

“Oh, that’s not very nice.” The familiar voice rang not from the Chief’s ear, but from across the room.

Every gun snapped up and pointed past the Chief’s right flank. He half-turned with the flurry of motion, instinct riding him hard, but he managed to stop with his weapon halfway raised. He was in time to see a black-clad form duck back behind the wall as a flurry of gunfire sliced through the air where they had stood.

“Fuck.” Kepper moved ahead of the Chief. “Obern. Take our guest and take him to the _Venom_. Radio in to Helmsley. We have Shepard here.”

**_.-~*~-._**

+ _Shepard this is_ stupid _.+_

“Stay cool Garrus.” Abigail checked her thermal clips calmly as she listened to the men talking in the hacked comm feed playing in her ear.

+ _I thought ordered you to withdraw_!+

+ _Sir, we were, but we intercepted Subject One. Kepper has him talking. And Shepard is here._ +

+ _Fuck. Secure Subject One if you can. I’m on my way. Richter. Bring that goddamn YMIR_.+

 _Goodie. YMIR_. The heavy combat mech, equipped with rockets and a machine gun, was not fun on her best days, and she counted ten men in the room beyond, an AWOL assassin, and a giant armoured behemoth of questionable allegiance. But if he was the thing from the pot – large, green and armoured seemed to fit – then he was what these people were here for. And Shepard had no intention of letting them leave with him.

They had orders to kill her, she knew that much. But could she somehow bluff her way into a conversation with the big guy?

“I surrender!” she called around the door. “Let’s talk!”

+ _You_ what _?!_ \+ spluttered Garrus in her ear.

“Come out, and we’ll talk!”

Abigail narrowed her eyes, glancing around the door jam and then pulling back sharply. “You have a lot of guns pointed at me.”

“You can cross the room in point-seven seconds, Shepard. I’m not stupid.”

+ _Debatable_ ,+ groused Tali in her ear.

“Let’s just try and talk this out, okay?” she called. “No one else needs to die. I’m here to _help_.”

+ _Sir._ \+ The patched comm crackled to life. + _Let’s just take her out_.+

+ _Negative. This guy is teetering on the brink. Shooting Shepard dead might just turn him against us again. Let’s just… talk_.+ Off the channel, the same voice called, “Come on out, then Shepard. No need to hide.”

+ _I can take them out_.+

“Negative, Garrus. I’m guessing that if we strike first, we ruin our chances of making the big guy like us.”

+ _Shepard, how do you_ know _he’s not with them? If they know we’ve hacked their comms, this could very well be a trap_.+

+ _And if he doesn’t care about killing civilians, he might not give a damn if they shoot you_.+ Tali’s hushed whisper was just as urgent as her turian sniper’s.

“I promise I’ll explain later, but right now, I need to act. You two stay in hiding until I give the order.”

+ _Yes, Commander_.+

“Garrus.”

A turian growl rolled through the commlink.

“ _Garrus_.”

+ _Affirmative_.+

Shepard closed her eyes and took a deep, bolstering breath. “Alright. I’m coming out.”

**_.-~*~-._**

Liquid movements flowed along spider-like limbs as the assassin pulled himself through the ventilation ducts and out through the hatch. Spinning down, he landed soundlessly on the railing of the walkway. The turian and the quarian were oblivious to his presence, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Their orders were to get Subject One back to their Commander. Alive. But accidents happened. Stray gunfire. Kardevich had to defend himself. A million and one excuses and lies lined up inside the assassin’s head, behind the singular directive.

 _Avenge my brother_.

The assassin dropped down under the walkway, using his fingers and the toes of his flexible boots to carry him along like a spider, behind the green behemoth. As good as his peripheral might have been, he didn’t have eyes in the back of his head.

He didn’t care about Commander Shepard as she stepped out of the doorway. He didn’t give a damn about Archangel, with his sizeable bounty.

He wanted his revenge.

And he would kill anyone who got in his way.

**_.-~*~-._**

The soldiers stepped forward in readiness, guns up, their attention fixated not on the Chief, but past him, to his right.

“No funny business!” snapped Kepper.

“I’m usually without humour,” came the distorted response from across the room. “To be fair, I honestly thought you were just gonna shot me.”

The Chief turned his head slightly to bring into his peripheral the approaching form of a humanoid woman. She wore a tight black skinsuit beneath heavy black armour, lined with red lights. She stood tall, taller than the man before him. Her crown would have peaked over six and a half feet inside her armour, perhaps six three without it. She sported an impressive arsenal of weapons, a bandolier of grenades around one thigh and along one upper arm, a sidearm magnetically locked to her opposite thigh, some kind of compact weapon protruding over one shoulder, and a shotgun hanging loosely in one of her raised hands.

“That’s far enough!” Kepper was at the fore, his gun trained at her face.

She stopped five metres from their position.

The Chief remained lax, ensuring that he did not draw attention to himself as he observed passively. The voice emerging from the woman’s helmet matched the one that had attempted to make contact with him. _Commander Abigail Shepard_. But she wore no uniform, insignia, or rank on her armour. If anything, she looked more mercenary than the group before him. At least they wore distinct colour coding.

His eyes tracked to the dead forms around them, alien and human. One woman, or a small team, could not wreak this carnage. It was an organised assault with orders to seek and destroy, execute with extreme prejudice. A cleanup. Bullets were not clustered with any military precision. Knees were blown out, shoulders crippled, holes dotted torsos. Very few shots were actually condensed on kill zones in the body, and almost none centred on the head.

The Chief turned back to the woman as she came to a stop, her helmet panning to him very briefly before focusing on the weapons directed at her.

“Let’s not be stupid,” she said quietly, almost serenely, despite the helmet’s distortion. Even to the Chief’s sensitive ear there was no tremor to her voice. She was perfectly calm. “Enough people have died today. Innocent people.”

“On the ground, Shepard,” ordered Kepper. “Hands behind your head. And order your team to come out.”

“Or what, you’re gonna shoot me? An unarmed, surrendering enemy combatant? Classy.”

The hands shifted on guns. One man stepped forward, bringing his rifle tighter to his shoulder. The Chief glanced at the undisciplined display of bloodthirstiness. Something emotional charged the air between the two forces, but he could not tell what beyond the fact that many of these men _wanted_ to kill her.

“I am Commander Shepard,” the woman said slowly.

“I know who you are!” shouted Kepper, but she continued to speak.

“Of the Systems Alliance Navy, of Earth and her colonies. I am a Council Spectre, with full authority to work on behalf of the Council, an alliance of multiple races, most of which were found aboard this vessel.”

“We’re not in Council space, Shepard.”

“I am here to help you.”

“Shut up!”

She did so, falling obediently silent.

“Tell your team to come out.”

“No.”

Kepper stepped forward, brandishing his gun threateningly. “Do it!”

“Shoot me,” she responded. “I’m not calling my team to their deaths.”

The stalemate waged on. She would not capitulate and she clearly showed no fear of dying. The fact that she was protecting her teammates weighed on the Chief.

“Deactivate your shields.”

She had no problem placing her own life at risk, however. He watched something blue around her body flicker briefly, then slide away.

“ _Both_ of them.”

Her head tilted ever so slightly, fingers flexing. A far more organic blue light pulsed around herself, conforming to her body this time, and then also disappeared.

“If you shoot me,” she said with the calm instruction of a teacher, “my hardsuit will still take the brunt of the damage.”

“Not if we shoot you in the face.”

“I’ll kill you before you break the faceplate. I’d advise against shooting me. I just want to talk.”

The Chief slowly glanced at Kepper, the Spartan’s fingers tightening on his own weapon.

Kepper was oblivious. “Take her gun.”

Silence reigned as the man appointed for the task turned to look at Kepper sharply. The reluctance to approach was obvious. Finally, the man finally began to inch closer to her. The woman kept her hands up, her body relaxed. His gun finally tapped the jawline of her helmet, pushing her head to the side with the pressure. Slowly, carefully, he reached for the shotgun, almost as though he expected the woman to explode. When he took the gun, he snatched it, and backed away quickly.

“Okay.” She remained unflustered. “Now you can see if I go for any of my other weapons. Let’s talk, okay?”

“Take your helmet off.”

She dropped her hands to obey, grasping her helmet and jerking it to the left to break the seal. Pulling it over her head, she revealed she was, in fact, human. Her skin was dark, but still light enough to denote a great deal of racial diversity. This was reinforced by a smattering of freckles along her small nose and the intensity of her grey-green eyes. The skin of her face was flawless, interesting for an armed combatant. Her cheekbones high. She was what someone might refer to as ‘pretty’, but to the Chief she was simply an unknown variable. Enemy or ally?

Commander Shepard tossed her helmet away, over a table. The gesture drew the Chief’s attention to some conveniently placed cover. When he looked back, Kepper had closed the distance to the woman and lifted his gun, pointing the barrel at her forehead. She stared past the weapon at him, her slate-green eyes fixed on his face. The intent was clear. If he wanted to shoot her, he wasn’t going to see a scrap of fear on her dark features.

“I am here to help you,” she repeated slowly.

“No you aint, Shepard.”

“I am a representative of the human organised military.” She was still speaking deliberately clearly. So as to not be misinterpreted. “This is a decommissioned Systems Alliance Naval carrier, now a science vessel.”

“Shut up!”

“The people aboard this vessel were scientists, with a small staff of security, more suited to fending off the odd pirate raid or hostile alien life on otherwise uninhabited planets. We picked up their distress signal. They were being attacked.”

Kepper roared at the Commander, “Shepard, shut the fuck up!” To the Chief, “Don’t listen to her.” To the men behind him, “Where’s Helmsley!?”

“He’s on his way.”

The Chief had already long figured out that she was not talking to Kepper. She was talking to him, and he had deduced much. She had emerged from hiding in a display of trust. These men were holding at gunpoint an officer of Earth’s military. Unified military. Meaning they were separatist force of some kind, or paramilitary. Mercenaries. She had already disproved their story that they were attached to the ship, fending off an attack. Too organised. Too brutal. They weren’t the security force attached to this ship.

They were its murderers.

The Chief recalled the brutal screams of the dying woman. The hushed whisper of her torturer.

 _Where is the AI_.

The words Kepper used. But this ship was attached to the remains of the _Forward Unto Dawn_. _This_ ship, and its occupants, were the ones that found the chief. Kepper and his commander, Helmsley he guessed, had come aboard, slain the occupants, and attempted to take him.

Could he trust a paramilitary force with the MJOLNIR armour? With Cortana?

With the augmentative process that went into a Spartan II?

Could he trust them to the current organised military? If this current regime was the result of separatist victory, then the men before him could be desperate resistance.

Either way, he had to choose.

Commander Shepard’s voice drew his attention to her once more. “The only reason this man hasn’t shot me already is because he wants to convince you to come with him.” She was now looking directly at the Chief. “If you want to go with them, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Kepper stepped forward. The gun shook in her face. “I mean it!”

“But one of these mercenaries tortured a woman to death in front of your cyrostasis pod. If you are the man who crossed her arms over her chest, she died protecting something of yours from them. I want to know why she died, and you are my only answer.”

The Chief inhaled slowly.

“You need to choose!”

“Fuck it.”

Then, chaos.

At the same instant that the Chief’s MJOLNIR armour picked up a burst of motion, the Commander’s head snapped up and she shouted with alarm. The Chief turned in time to see a black-clad form falling from the walkway above, sword aimed at his face. Even as his mind registered the incoming attack, the Spartan was moving, responding to the squeezing of Kepper’s finger around his trigger, likely a response to the Commander’s movement.

The gun went off just before the Chief could make contact, but the Commander had twisted her head enough that it merely grazed her ear, slicing off a chunk of flesh and taking with it a lock of hair. In the same moment, the Chief brought his gun up to deflect the sword aimed at him, but the humming edge, glowing with an unknown orange light, sliced cleanly through the metal like it wasn’t even there. The Chief did not even feel the weapon register the blow. Casting aside the lower half of the gun, the Chief darted backwards as two lightning-fast blows were driven toward his chest, though both were easily avoided for a Spartan. The assassin pressed his advantage, pirouetting in and slicing once more.

The Commander slid fluidly between the Spartan and the assassin, flinging out one hand. There was a distorted concussive blast, a flare of blue light, and the assassin was knocked backwards.

Instantly the Commander and the Chief hurled themselves over the cover near her helmet, both dropping down behind the solid table.

“Kardevich, stand down!” roared Kepper.

“Take this.” A weapon was thrust into his hands. The one clamped to her back. All she had now was her sidearm.

Before the Chief could protest, a sword punched through the table between them and sliced up. The Commander rolled onto her back, planted her foot on the Chief’s chest, and shoved hard. He was thrown backwards with a distorted _boom_ of noise just as the table went flying apart.

As the Chief rolled to his feet, he saw the Commander fire several times at the assassin, drawing his attention. Though he glanced at the Chief, the assassin appeared to prioritise the Commander as a target and charged at her. Gunfire peppered a shield that winked into place over her body as she fled from the assassin, moving behind more cover.

Just as the Chief stepped to aid her, a voice rang through the gunfire.

“Wait!”

The Chief stopped and looked at Kepper, who had one hand extended in an absurd display of entreaty.

“Please. Commander Shepard may say a lot of fancy things, but she doesn’t work in humanity’s best interests. I don’t know who you are, but I know we _need_ you. Please!”

The Chief glanced over to see the Commander and the assassin come tumbling past some tables, rolling several times head over heels. When they came to a stop, the assassin had his blade pointed at her face, and the two were wrestling for control of the weapon. As he watched, the Commander pushed the assassin back, physically bearing his entire weight on her arms.

The scene was the exact same as the one he woke up to, with a similar form bearing down on a human woman. Both stared at death defiantly. But one of them had been an unarmed civilian, tortured for Cortana’s location.

The Chief snapped his gun up and fired at the mercenary that was taking aim at the vulnerable woman. Two bullets blew out his shields and the third snapped is head to the side, sending brain matter spraying from his opposite temple.

As Kepper yelled at him to stop, the Chief lowered his weapon and charged at the assassin, which glanced up far too late. The Chief grabbed the assassin’s arm, planted his feet, and tore him off the Commander. Pivoting at the waist, he threw the assassin across the room, but the lithe form flipped through the air and landed effortlessly on a table.

A hand patted the Chief’s back and he and the Commander ducked out of the way and behind another bolted down table. As they went the Commander reached out one palm. Her helmet lifted from across the floor and flew toward her, and she snatched it from the air as it flew past. Both of them skidded to their knees behind their makeshift cover.

Despite the fact that less than a minute had transpired since the assassin broke the stalemate, her condition it was still impressive for the sheer amount of fire she would have just endured. In fact, the only injury on her was the damage to her ear, which had already stopped bleeding.

“Are you injured?” For a moment the Chief was struck silent by the question. She was asking him, a Spartan, if he was alright?

“I am unharmed,” was his answer finally. “Your injury?”

The Commander picked up her helmet, still as calm as ever. “Nothing major.” Her helmet slid over her black hair. “Garrus. Tali. Are you in position?”

The Chief heard the very faint response from the inside of her helmet and she nodded. She turned to look at him, her black visor implacable.

“Cover me.” Armed with only her sidearm, she bounced on the balls of her feet. “I’m going to go get my shotgun back.”

**_.-~*~-._**

Abigail vaulted over the bolt-locked lab table. As soon as her boot touched down on the opposite side, she engaged her biotics. When she rematerialized, she was turning through the air, feet over her head, her Carnifex aimed at the man who was holding her shotgun. He thought his own table would save him. He was wrong.

She snagged her shotgun from his limp fingers, landing on her toes behind their line of cover. Driving her boot down, she sent a biotic blast along her leg, through the floor, and into the area around her. Bodies went scattering, shields sparking and dying. One-handed, she ejected the thermal clips from her Raider and dropped to her knees behind her new cover. Reloading.

+ _Your new friend is fighting, Shepard. And he’s winning._ +

“Keep covering him.” Abigail snapped her Raider closed. “Where’s the assassin?”

+ _On him_.+

Abigail disappeared in a wash of biotics again, reappearing behind the men and their new cover. At Interplanetary Combat Training, Abigail had endured the rigorous training of both a Slayer and a Fury, specialist classes of the pure biotic adept military sub-class, and the soldier-biotic hybrid of the vanguard. In the five years since, she had fine-tuned the two training classes into her own, unique form of biotic-enhanced combat, a combination of acrobatics and brute force.

Though she was nowhere near as powerful as Samara, or as fine as Thane, she was a finely tuned biotic killing machine. But when she looked up, she realised she might have just met her match.

With almost machine-like combat efficiency, the way the giant green armoured behemoth was mowing down mercenaries he might as well be on a target range. A grenade was thrown at him and he caught it and threw it back with the same effort she would use to swat a fly. His other arm was used to catch the forearm of the assassin, deflecting the blade easily. He was essentially fighting on two fronts, melee and ranged. Bullets ricocheted off his armour like it was the hull of a ship. One bullet even bounced off the reflective visor of his helmet and he didn’t even react.

There was barely anything _human_ in the way he moved. In his height. In his power. He was fending off the vibroblade of the assassin _and_ weathering constant gunfire. More than that, he was moving _faster_ than the assassin. It was only through the combined assaults from both flanks that he wasn’t winning against the sword-wielding fighter.

 _What are you_?

A rifle shot ghosted past Abigail’s helmet and she glanced behind her to see the merc sneaking up behind her drop, a hole bored in his helmet.

+ _Focus, Shepard_!+

Abigail caught a tackling soldier to the midriff even as Garrus finished berating her. Her back impacted against a table and she slid backwards along it. Hauling back her fist, she punched the merc twice in the head, forcing it back and away from her shoulder. Wedging her elbow around his neck, she linked hands under his shoulder and wrenched sideways with her body.

The sickening _crack_ registered through contact rather than sound, and he fell away.

Rolling off the table and onto the ground, Abigail glanced up to get her bearings, and to find her new friend. Capable or not, he needed a little help.

**_.-~*~-._**

All it took was a hair’s breadth of a gap, a heartbeat where he was just fast enough. Finally, he got it. The Chief’s hand shot out and he grabbed the assassin’s blade wrist, twisting sharply, intending to break the arm. The limb withstood the blow for a second before it gave, crumpling inwards in a shower of sparks.

 _Cybernetic_.

The assassin slammed one palm against the Chief’s chest and released some sort of electrical detonation from his hand. The Chief was ripped off his feet, the force propelling even his significant weight across the floor. His shoulder hit and he let his legs lift over his head, landing in a three point crouch. Throwing aside the metal limb that he still held in his hand, he reassessed the assassin before him with new understanding. His body was cybernetically augmented. That was how he was able to move the way he was. How much of the assassin had been converted into metal? His limbs? His torso? More? Had he even been a man, or was he some form of humanoid synthetic soldier? The one the Chief had killed had possessed a brain, at the very least. The Chief had discovered that when he crushed it in his hand. Was that all that remained of this man? His brain?

The assassin clenched his one remaining fist, staring at the Chief. Did he have another weapon on him? Did he have a bomb as a failsafe inside his chest?

The assassin lifted his hand. The palm sparked with electricity. Flinging out his hand, the assassin discharged a burst of energy that rocketed toward the Chief. He felt his world slow as the MJOLNIR armour propelled his muscles, twisting him around. The blast would skim harmlessly past his chest. A clear miss.

Except that right as it became parallel with him, the glove twitched and the blast exploded. The impact was tremendous. The Chief was sent staggering, not quite thrown from his feet, but barely able to keep his balance. His body tingled as his armour discharged unpleasant static shocks through his skin, sending his muscles into spasms. As he resituated his feet the assassin was there, slicing with his sword. The Chief dipped his shoulder, twisting at the waist to avoid the impaling blow. The glowing edge scored a glancing strike along his shoulder, cleaving a furrow in the green lacquered metal. Just like the gun, it passed through the metal like it wasn’t even there.

The loud report of a rifle heralded some form of concussive round striking the assassin high in the shoulder, flipping him to his knees. The Chief followed the trajectory of the rifle and saw two unknown figures on the walkway above, neither of them human. The Commander’s team?

As the Chief watched, the blue-armoured alien ejected a steaming cylinder from his weapon and reloaded a second one as the purple-clad alien charged down the walkway. She flung out her arm, and a bolt of electricity shot from a glowing orange light on her arm, sending the assassin darting away.

And straight into the Commander.

As the assassin dodged the electrical surge, the Chief saw Commander Shepard literally disappear in a wash of blue light. His eyes tracked the light moving faster than even his head could turn. So fast that when she reappeared, the assassin was still in the process of dodging the electrical blast sent from the purple alien. The light peeled back to show her emerging from the fire, one boot planted, her fist drawn back.

A blue light detonated with a loud boom between her fist and the assassin’s face. He was thrown so far off his feet that he went clearly airborne for several seconds, smashing into the ground several metres away. He rolled groggily to his feet, blood leaking from fissures in his mask. Then he turned and jogged away from them, breaking into a drunken sprint for the line of mercenaries that were now adjusting their aim to the Commander’s new location. As the Commander appeared prepared to chase the assassin – and the Chief readied to assist her – a mechanical biped stomped around the edge of the wall. The Commander’s forward momentum stalled abruptly.

“Cover!”

One arm was thrust forward, metallic petals folding outward, and the machine unleashed a storm of gunfire right at the Master Chief.

**_.-~*~-._**

“I had the situation under control!” roared Kepper over the churning of the YMIR’s machine gun.

Kardevich laughed as he worked to take his broken helmet off. A tooth went winging away as he peered at the mercenary with his one organic eye. Like his brother, his helmet interfaced with his extensive cranial cybernetics, among which was an auto-targeting cybernetic left eye.

“He was about to choose her anyway. You let her talk too long. She’s far better than you think she is.”

Kepper walked up to the assassin and put his gun to the man’s head, shaking in rage. “My men are dying now because of you!”

“They are dying because you didn’t pull the trigger when you should have.” The assassin turned to walk away.

“So much for your _revenge,_ then.”

“You think he will die here? No. Commander Shepard works miracles. They will both get out alive.” Kardevich glanced back. “I am withdrawing to the _Deliverance_. You are welcome to stay. Die. In fact, I encourage it.”

“The _Deliverance_ … Helmsley called it in?” Kepper stared blankly ahead, realising with a moment of apoplectic terror that he was going to die anyway. He had Subject One and now he lost him.

“No. I did.”

Kepper’s eyes bulged as he drew his sidearm. He barely had time for it to clear the mag lock when Kardevich drove a knife into the merc’s throat and sliced sideways. Blood sprayed along the floor and Kepper sank to his knees, unable to do more than choke.

As the mercs stared, horrified, at Kardevich, he threw his knife onto the corpse. “Someone radio Helmsley. Tell him to not bother returning to the _Deliverance_. If our Commander does not kill him for this failure, I will.”

With that, the assassin walked away.

**_.-~*~-._**

 “ _YMIR_!”

That strange blue light rushed around him – _through him?_ – and he stared as the black-clad woman appeared before him, both of her arms flung out just as the mechanical construct opened fire with a heavy-calibre machine gun. The bullets that would have hit the Chief’s armour instead impacted off of the shield she projected from her palms, a shield made of that same blue fire. Closer now, the Chief could see whirling lines of energy through the light, like slow-moving arcs of electricity.

The Chief saw a mercenary sprint around to her flank, bringing up a rifle. He jerked forward and brought his shoulder to cover her, the round bouncing off his armour.

“We’re exposed,” he advised her.

“Move!” she shouted over her shoulder. Her voice was tight with strain. Whatever shield she had up was physically exhausting her.

The Chief wrapped one arm around her waist and threw himself sideways, diving into cover with her. They landed behind some crates and were immediately showered with gunfire. Metal was hewn away as each bullet ate through their cover.

“We can’t stay here!” John was forced to raise his voice over the shredding metal.

“Wait,” the Commander said, rolling off his chest and to her knees. A fragment of metal sheared past her cheek, slicing off some of her hair.

“Our cover won’t last much longer.”

“ _Wait_.”

Suddenly the gunfire halted and she slapped his arm. “Go!”

He dove to the left as she rolled to the right and he heard a distinct sound of two missiles being launched. The Chief glanced to the side as he cleared two tables in a single leap, landing in a sprint. The missiles impact against the tables behind them and sent metal heaving upwards. The floor shuddered with the impact. Whatever this ship was, the room they were in was not meant to deal with high-yield explosive missiles and sustained high calibre fire. At least on the inside.

The mech – YMIR – panned its head back and forth, clearly unsure as to who to follow. The Chief put his back to a table, watching it from his peripheral as he downed another mercenary. The Commander came out of that strange blue light in front of two mercs, firing her shotgun into the face of one and sending the other flying across the room. Finally, the mech decided on the Commander, resituating its feet to follow her with its machine gun. The metal decking was ripped up like paper in its wake. The Commander was forced to turn and erect that shield once more. One of the few remaining mercenaries took aim at her side, but a sniper round blew out the back of his head. Apparently that shield had a limit to its range.

The Chief continued his sprint to come up behind the mech, sliding down onto one knee to avoid a swing of its arm. Wrapping one of his arms about its missile launcher, he set his feet, mag-locked his boots to the deck, and wrenched upwards.

Gears whined as the machine fought him, but the missiles that would have launched at the Commander instead went rocketing towards the ceiling. The walkway above detonated, sending broken metal raining down on them. As the Chief watched, two more missiles began to load into the YMIR’s firing mechanism.

The blue light detonated next to him and he saw the Commander grab the same arm, shoving it toward the YMIR’s chest. It tried to bring its machine gun arm around, but the Commander threw out a hand. The arm was seized in some kind of blue field of light, similar the corona that surrounded the Commander previously, and it came to a whirring stop.

Together, the Chief and the Commander forced the YMIR’s missile launcher toward the mech’s head. But it at least maintained some self-preservation processes, because it didn’t fire.

“Garrus!” roared the Commander. “GARRUS, SHOOT THE MISSILES.” A pause. “ _DO IT_.”

The Chief heard the familiar report of the distant rifle. Releasing the arm, he grabbed the Commander. She threw one arm around the Chief’s head and he felt a bizarre distortion around himself before his whole world disappeared in a roar of fire and a series of deafening explosions.

**_.-~*~-._**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter last edited on the 10th of March 2016.
> 
> Feel free to visit my blog - annewhynnfanfiction.tumblr.com - or drop me a line - annewhynn@gmail.com - if you like!
> 
> This author is Patreon supported - https://www.patreon.com/annewhynn


	4. Connection

**Chapter Four**

_Connection_

**_.-~*~-._**

Fire guttered around her. Sparks sprayed from ruptured power cables. Shadows moved. Distant sounds buzzed in her ears. Groaning, Abigail pushed herself up, lifting something heavy on her back. After a few seconds of struggling, the weight eased, and two familiar hands grabbed her arms, dragging her out.

“Shepard. Can you hear me?” Garrus had removed his helmet and was checking her for injuries as the green armoured man dropped the metal that had been crushing her.

“Yeah.” She pushed his hand away. A black glove and green vambrace appeared in her vision and she glanced up to see the Chief offering to help her rise. Grasping his forearm, she dragged herself to her feet, swaying unsteadily. She ran an internal diagnostic through her medical interface. Suspected concussion, a broken rib, but other than that she was whole.

Better than expected, considering she had taken a YMIR blast to the face.

A shard of metal fell from above and glanced off their new friend’s shoulder. Slowly Shepard glanced up and saw a burning hole in the ceiling above him. Beyond that, a broken walkway hanging awkwardly from the roof of the floor above. The exploding mech had sent them plummeting to the lower deck.

“Are you alright?” she asked him.

He simply looked at her.

“Talkative,” murmured Garrus.

“So. What do I call you?”

“Master Chief.”

“That’s it?” Garrus glanced at her, then back at the ‘Master Chief’. “Just your rank?”

Something settled uneasily in Shepard’s gut. Her eyes narrowed when the Master Chief simply stared at Garrus.

 _Later_. “Yeah… Master Chief it is, then.” Abigail keyed her comms. “Tali?”

+ _Up here_!+

All three of them looked up – the Chief slightly behind Garrus and Shepard – at Tali, kneeling at the edge of the hole and waving.

“You ok?”

+ _Yeah, the mercenaries are gone_.+

“Gone?” repeated Shepard.

She gave the quarian equivalent of a shrug.

“Commander Shepard.”

Abigail turned to face the gravel-voiced soldier, who had his boot planted on a section of shredded floor. “This appears it will hold our weight.”

Garrus and Abigail glanced at one another, with the turian offering a shrug. “Hey, you made the call.”

Together, they climbed from the hole, Garrus going first, then Shepard, then the Master Chief. Tali assisted the turian up, then the two of them pulled Shepard up the slight gap between the top of the debris and the stable floor. When all three turned back to assist the Master Chief, they found him easily hauling his own weight up and to safety.

Abigail drew her eyes away, pursing her lips. “The mercenaries just withdrew? Well, that’s not good.”

The firefight had ended with the death of the YMIR. The four of them were the only ones alive. Slowly, as if aware that the three of them were looking at him, the Master Chief turned to face the Commander.

“We’ve met,” Abigail said in the growing silence. “This is my team. Garrus Vakarian, and Tali’Zorah vas _Normandy_. Introductions made. Let’s get out of here.”

“I am looking for someone.” He spoke immediately after she finished. He had waited for her to finish speaking, but the urgency in his words was clear. “I won’t leave without her.”

“Cortana.”

The Master Chief went dead still, a bizarre stillness even from what she had seen. She had surprised him. “Sorry. Overheard you trying to talk to her on the comms. There was no record of anyone else being taken from your ship, however. Just an unknown artefact that was taken to the secure testing labs on a lower deck.”

“That’s her.”

 _Her?_ “If the crew of the _Athens_ could retrieve someone from cryosleep, they would ha-”

“She’s not a human. She’s an advanced Artificial Intelligence. And I need to retrieve her. She is property of the UNSC.”

 _She’s a what_? Abigail stamped down her impatience. “That presents a problem. AI’s are large. We don’t have the t-”

“She is contained in a small drive no bigger than my thumb.”

“She…” Shepard held up a hand, fighting to process what she had just heard. “We still don’t have the time, Chief. The laboratory section is located a long way from here, and we have no idea what kind of firefight we will encountered between there and here. Or whether or not it’s been moved-”

“They don’t know where she is. The assassin was interrogating the woman for her location.” The Chief stared down at Abigail, and she saw her own implacable visor staring back at her. “I am not leaving without her.”

“Master Chief,” Abigail said, trying to remain calm. “We have a merc vessel bearing down on us, and I do not want to be here when it arrives. It’s a big fish and our ship is not.”

The Chief resituated his feet and squared his shoulders. Silence. He had said his piece.

“You mean you want me to leave you to die here on this ship.” When he didn’t respond, Abigail swore. “Master Chief, I just managed to convince you to not leave this ship with a bunch of murderous mercenaries. I’ve got dozens of dead scientists, and you appear to be the reason why. You cannot expect me to just leave you here.”

He neither moved nor spoke. Instead, he stared. He had nothing more to say, it seemed.

Everything about this man, this Master Chief, screamed wrongness to Shepard. UNSC. What was that? She had no time to ask. She really wanted to ask. He had referred to this ‘Cortana’ as a ‘she’. Much like EDI. Had he identified it as being sentient, self-aware, and possessing an identity? His armour was beyond developed. She _felt_ the slight vibration from it. It was not merely plate. It was mechanised. Power armour. How could he wear something like that knowing it wouldn’t rip him to shreds? No one had developed exoskeletal armour of that degree without it being unfeasibly large.

Speaking of large, the guy was _huge_. He held his weapon with military practice and precision. Not just from training. The guy was battleworn. As if his armour didn’t show that, though. Pitted, dented and burned, it looked like he had been rolled through the Eden Prime conflict a thousand times without rest.

Abigail grit her teeth against the frustration. She did not like to be corralled in a combat situation. On one hand, she had what she thought was a reason behind the deaths of hundreds of civilians and to leave that behind meant they might die for nothing. On the other hand, she had the lives of her crew to think of.

“Fine,” she bit out. “We’ll retrieve it.”

The reaction was infinitesimal, barely visible. But his shoulders relaxed and he nodded.

“Shepard.” Garrus stepped toward her, voice low. “You really think that’s a good idea? Having another AI, an unknown AI, on the _Normandy_?”

Abigail glanced at Garrus. “Not really, but what choice do we have right now? Aside from leaving him here?”

Garrus exhaled sharply and shook his head, but was clearly willing to follow the Commander’s order. She was grateful. Even if Garrus wholly disagreed with her decision, he would follow her order to the grave. She just hoped this time she hadn’t actually killed him.

“Move out.”

**_.-~*~-._**

On the _Normandy_ , ex Cerberus Operative and genetically perfected human Miranda Lawson stared at the signal as it approached their position. Beside her, the _Athens_ moved slowly through their view as the _Normandy_ kept abreast of the Commander’s movements.

“How long do they have left?” she asked.

EDI responded, “Thirteen minutes.”

**_.-~*~-._**

Four sets of boots sprinted down the hallway, and for the first time in a long time it was not the Chief taking point. Or any Spartan. Instead, it was the shorter form of the Commander firmly in the fore. She checked doors on the left. He checked doors on the right. Methodical. Trained.

Military.

Familiar.

But at the same time so very foreign.

Since their encounter with the YMIR mech, they had found no mercenaries at all. Only the corpses of the scientists butchered in their attack.

It was that encounter with the mech that allowed the Chief to know how damaged his MJOLNIR armour had become. Movement in his left arm was becoming slightly difficult, the armour responding one third of a second slower than it should have, hindering his effectiveness. His HUD was periodically showing a lumen fluctuation that indicated either a power depletion or poor coupling between the helmet and the neck guard. That was also not taking into consideration the injuries he was carrying.

No wonder it had been so hard for him to move the YMIR mech’s arm. He would need to recover, and get his suit repaired at…

His thoughts stalled. He couldn’t get his suit repaired. Would anything in this place even know how to repair it?

A soft, warbling voice emerged from the cloth-clad alien, jarring him from his thoughts. Tali. After finding a collapsed hallway, the quarian had mapped out an alternate route for them. A longer one. But now she seemed to have oriented herself to the ship once more.

Her arm thrust out from behind the Chief and pointed at a closed door. Opposite the door was a bizarre fracturing of the metal, and a blackened, brownish stain.

“Did we encounter any biotics among the mercs?” asked Shepard as she and the Chief took up position on either side of the door.

Garrus had moved to the blast and shook his head in a very human gesture of the negative. He pried a piece of metal off the wall and threw it at the Commander, saying something as he did so. She snatched the metal out of the when he tossed it to her, turning it over to examine the turian’s findings. Then she tossed it toward the Master Chief.

“Biotics that are used to accelerate and disintegrate organic flesh leave a residue on the area around it. That brownish layer seared into the metal? Someone with red blood died there. And I’m guessing an asari did it, because a human would be hard pressed to put out that much biotic energy in a single blast.”

Garrus said something.

“Jack and myself notwithstanding, Garrus.”

The Master Chief stared at her.

 _She knows_.

Garrus said something, a series of tones that the Chief had already recognised was either ‘Commander’ or ‘Shepard’.

The Commander shook her head as Tali turned from the control panel of the door and spoke to her.

“It does?” Shepard checked her own map, then explained to the Master Chief, “This room is the security check point for the CIC of the _Athens_. Most defensible location on the ship aside from the CIC itself.”

 _Last stand_.

“CIC’s on these old carriers are set further forward than they are now on modern dreadnaughts, but are less exposed. But the hallway leading to them is about five hundred meters up a ramp. Prevents the CIC from being taken by hostiles. But if those mercs got through, they could be holed up on the other side waiting for their reinforcements. So be ready for a fight.”

 _Cortana is close_.

Shepard checked her weapon. “Alright, we go in, we get the AI, and we get the fuck out of here. Deal?”

“Deal,” the Chief murmured.

Garrus reached around Shepard and grasped Tali’s armour with one hand.

“Tali.”

As soon as the door hissed open Garrus hauled Tali out of the way and the Chief and the Commander pivoted around the doorframe.

“Clear left,” he said.

“Clear right,” Shepard whispered. “I’m scanning for life signs.”

The Chief didn’t expect her to find any.

Mercenaries lay strewn about amongst the corpses of aliens similar to Garrus. The security detail of the vessel. From the look of it, they had died protecting the doorway beyond, which was sealed shut. A turian and a mercenary seemed to have died off to one side in a knife fight, collapsed over one another. Another turian was pinned under a corpse, their blood mixing together. More turians lay closer and closer to the door, a few sprawled behind the cover afforded by some kind of console off to one side. Security, perhaps.

A pair of turian legs lay sprawled in the doorway, a detonation having claimed his torso. A suicide attempt to block the last of the mercenaries? Likely.

The bravery of the aliens struck the Chief. They had _all_ died fighting.

“We don’t have time to check for survivors.” Shepard checked her weapons, prompting the Chief to do the same, ensuring that the heat sink cell in it showed maximum capacity. “Tali can you get that door open?”

The female seemed shaken by her surroundings as stumbled for the door and tapped away at the console. Beside him, the Commander engaged her wrist-mounted hologram once more and engaged some sort of scan.

The Chief considered the deviation in technology. It did not appear to be hyperadvanced, nor did it look like it emerged from his technological age. Rather, it looked like an alternate means to produce a similar end. The weapons were akin, but not the same as, the ones he understood. Their armour was less advanced than MJOLNIR, but more advanced than the standard wear of UNSC marines or even ODST.

The Chief filed this knowledge away for later. Just as he filed away his concern that the mercenaries might have gotten what they came for.

 _Cortana_.

The avian alien, Garrus, said something. The Chief’s frustration at his inability to understand renewed. It limited his information.

The Commander answered, “I was just thinking the same thing, Garrus. You think they’d regroup for reinforcements. But they’re just _gone_.”

“Did they get Cortana?” As soon as the Chief asked, he knew the question was absurd. They had no way of knowing.

“No.”

The Commander’s definitive answer gave the Chief hope he did not want to indulge. “Why do you think that?”

She was staring down at her own orange hologram. “Because I am registering a life form ahead, and none of these guys looked ready to give up without dying first. And the mercs wouldn’t have left any survivors.” The Commander looked at him. “Whoever that life form is, they will have your AI.”

Just as the Chief began to jog toward the door, Shepard’s entire body went rigid.

“No there’s two signals. One’s on the other side of the d- _Tali move_.”

The quarian turned to obey instantly as the doors hissed open, but she was too slow. The report of the Widow was deafening in the confined space and it punched straight through Tali’s shield, and her chest, and buried itself in the Commander’s stomach.

**_.-~*~-._**

Abigail’s hardsuit reacted instantly, sealing off the zone of impact and ensuring that none of Tali’s foreign enzymes could get into her body. Her system was flooded with antihistamines regardless, carried by the thunderous roar of the Commander’s heart as she dove forward, rolled, and grabbed Tali’s armour, dragging the injured quarian out of the line of fire.

“Where’s the shooter?” she called.

“End of the hall!” Garrus responded.

At the same time, the Chief announced, “Shooter down.”

“Tali,” Abigail whispered, omnitool engaging. “Tali!” Not just the bleeding was of concern. Quarians, with their delicate immune system and dextro-amino bodies, could go into anaphylactic shock at a splinter with the wrong contents. It was not unknown for snipers to put foreign DNA into the tip of a bullet before attempting to assassinate a quarian. It would take care of the job it the bullet itself did not.

Garrus had even once _coughed_ on a quarian serial killer on Omega and killed him. A taste of the biological-weapon-using murderer’s own medicine, so to speak.

 _Think, Shepard_. No one fired a Widow round just for a quarian.

 _That bullet was meant for me_. A gut-shot that would obliterate her internal organs. Aiming for centre mass. If Shepard had taken that shot, she might not have died, but she would be combat inefficient.

Tali’s shields, and her body, had slowed it enough that Shepard’s own shields and armour could absorb the remaining kinetic energy, ensuring the bullet was not lethal.

 _Please don’t let me have bought my life with hers_.

Shepard would have rather taken the bullet full on.

Garrus appeared beside. “Is she okay?”

“Where’s the shooter, Garrus?”

“He’s dead.” The Master Chief was standing over the two of them. “He was at the end of the hall, lying in wait.”

“Shepard, you’re hit.” Turian hands reached for the bloody injury in Shepard’s chest, but she shoved his hands away.

“Sealed. I’m fine. Tali needs help more. Bullet punched through her right lung. Spine’s intact. Her suit’s already sealing the area to prevent infection.” Shepard ripped a medigel injector from her suit and sealed the breaches in Tali’s suit with the rapidly hardening material. “She needs to go back to the _Normandy_ right now. _Right now_.”

Garrus activated a link to the _Normandy_. “EDI, Joker. Tali’s down. GSW to the upper right torso. Through and through. Widow round. Her suit has sealed the area and Shepard has stopped the bleeding.”

“Her lung’s collapsed and I can’t control internal,” Shepard said on the same line. “Have Chakwas prep for emergency surgery.”

+ _She’s already on it, Commander_.+ Aboard the _Normandy_ , EDI would be monitoring the life signs of the team through their hardsuits.

+ _Shepard, you have another problem. That ship just got here. And it’s powering weapons_.+

“Take the _Normandy_ out of range until we can get Tali to an available escape-”

The next voice was Miranda’s. + _Shepard it’s firing on the_ Athens _!_ +

Shepard felt her entire body go cold. “It’s _what_?!”

**_.-~*~-._**

Standing on the bridge of the _Normandy_ Miranda stared aghast as the forward lance array of the vessel burst from beneath the pointed nose and punched a hole right through the _Athens_ like the ship was made of water, not ablative-coated space-faring metal.

“What the hell is that gun?” whispered Joker.

Even EDI, an unfeeling AI, sounded shaken. “I am commencing a scan of the vessel.”

“Shepard,” Miranda snapped, leaning over Joker. “I don’t know what you’re playing at but get out of there _now_. That ship doesn’t give a damn about the _Normandy_. It’s going after the _Athens_! You hear me, Shepard? _Get out_!”

**_.-~*~-._**

Gravity momentarily reversed as something flickered in the _Athens_. There was a dull thud as Garrus, Shepard and the Master Chief engaged magnetic clamps in their boots, adhering them to the deck. Tali floated up slightly and the Commander cradled her in her arms. When gravity returned, she held the quarian tight to prevent her from falling.

“Shepard, we have to go,” insisted Garrus.

The Chief interjected. “I am not leaving Cortana.”

“Tali’s dying and Shepard’s hit!” shouted Garrus. “We’re not staying for a damned AI!”

“He can’t understand you,” Shepard said to Garrus. “Go.” When no one moved, Shepard spun to the Chief. “Go! I’ll catch up.”

The Chief turned sharply and took off at a dead run, bolting up the ramp and over the body of the waiting sniper

“What the hell are you doing, Shepard?!”

“I am not leaving him. I will not let these scientists die for nothing. Take her to the _Normandy_. Get her to surgery. Worst comes to worst, you can pluck us both out of space.”

“Commander… You can’t be serious. You can’t be willing to die for him. For an _AI_.”

“Won’t be the first time I died staying behind on a ship. Cerberus rebuilt me once.”

“Dammit, Shepard! We need you.”

“ _She_ needs you now.” She turned away.

A hand snapped out and grabbed Shepard’s arm.

“I can’t lose you again,” he whispered.

She pulled free. “That’s an order, Garrus.” With that, the Commander turned and followed the Chief, leaving Garrus standing alone with the unconscious quarian.

**_.-~*~-._**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter last modified on the 10th March 2016.
> 
> Please feel free to visit my blog - annewhynnfanfiction.tumblr.com - or drop me an email - annewhynn@gmail.com!
> 
> This author is supported by Patreon donations - https://www.patreon.com/annewhynn


	5. Flight

**Chapter Five**

_Flight_

**_.-~*~-._**

Carnage. That was the only way it could be described. Pure, raw, biotic carnage that only asari were capable of dealing.

Bodies lay everywhere. Or what remained of them. The only ones that seemed intact had giant holes punched in them. Others had parts missing, like something had reached down and clipped a part of them off. Blood sprayed along the walls, and thicker, meatier bits slid down to the base. Bullet holes dotted the metal surface, a futile attempt to get through what looked like an exceedingly powerful biotic barrier.

Other biotics just didn’t match up to centuries of experience and natural abilities of an asari. Humans, especially, were all products of in utero exposure to eezo. Mutants. Just like Shepard, they all had their pregnant mothers to receive a dose of the unique form of radiation from element zero. Their natural capacity was minimal compared to an asari, aided by their implants. The only human that approached asari levels of power were herself and Jack. Shepard knew what it took for both of them to be what they were.

What it cost them.

No, this kind of slaughter was the realm of the asari.

The ship shuddered as another round punched through it. The lights flickered and dust particles fell from the ceiling plates. Even in space, things got dusty. Amazing how sterile the place must have been until another ship started shooting at it. Shepard heard the distant sound of explosions and inhaled deeply.

_We don’t have much time_.

Shepard ducked under a sagging light and stepped over what remained of a mercenary, his body ending at the waist in a red mess of pulped tissue, shattered bone and perforated organs. The stench was nothing new to Shepard. Combat reeked. Not just blood and the scent of raw meat, but also of bile, stomach contents, faecal matter and urine. The vids never did it credit.

The Commander glanced around, finding the Chief quickly amongst the slaughter. He was crouched in the corner of the room, his back blocking everything but a pair of blood-splashed humanoid legs. The asari responsible for their surroundings, Shepard assumed.

The asari had held out for a long time after the turians at the other end of the hall had finally lost the fight against overwhelming odds and superior firepower. Whoever had equipped this vessel clearly hadn’t expected a full-scale raid.

As Shepard stepped around the Chief, however, she saw the asari wasn’t quite dead yet.

She leaned back against the wall, blood spilling over her bottom lip. Burns lined her body. Her uniform was scorched. From the look of it, the scorch mark to her left was the site of the final blow. A missile or a bomb of some kind that had broken through her barrier and caught her in the blast radius. Without armour, she was helpless. Had she been able to maintain her biotic barrier, the piece of shrapnel impaling her left side would never have reached her. Nor, indeed, the bomb. But eventually, no matter how strong, all biotics eventually became exhausted. Even Shepard, with her augmentations and enhanced implant, was beginning to tire.

The asari turned away from the Chief and looked up at the Commander.

“Commander… Shepard?” She coughed wetly.

The Commander crouched. “Yeah. It’s me. I came to help, but I was too late. I’m sorry.”

“The others?”

Shepard let her silence speak for her.

Another explosion occurred. Closer. The room shook. The lights flickered once more.

The asari appeared oblivious. “Goddess. I should have left the ship. I should have listened to Faros. I should have just left it for scrap…”

“You couldn’t have known,” Abigail said gently, putting her hand on the asari’s shoulder. “I swear to you, I’ll find who did this.”

“You came because of our distress beacon. But it wasn’t them. The mercenaries. It was this.” The asari held up a black, featureless box. About half the size of a human head, slightly oblong, it was made up of several intersecting metal panels that created smooth sides. On one face was a locking mechanism laid over what looked like a seam, but it was hard to tell. Other than that, it was featureless. No lights. No holopanel. A chain sat over the box, and hanging from it was some kind of key. A physical locking mechanism? How archaic. Why would it need a physical locking mechanism?

“An AI. We let it out. And it attacked us. Blew through our countermeasures like they weren’t even there. Disabled the ship. We were helpless for them. It might have _called_ to them.”

Shepard felt her gut tighten. Was it possible the AI had sent a signal to the mercenaries? It would explain why they had found the _Athens_. Why they knew what was aboard. And it made sense, timeline wise, filling in holes in the logic. The attack had been surgical. Methodical. _Fast_. It was hours between the _Normandy_ receiving the distress signal and them arriving.

The _AI_ was the initial attack.

Shepard’s jaw locked.

A hand grabbed the Commander’s arm and she lurched, adrenaline surging briefly.

“Commander. This AI. Stronger than anything I’ve ever seen. It can’t be set loose. Had to manually remove it. The box is a containment. Can’t use wireless through it. Please.”

The locking mechanism. It was to prevent the AI from opening the device. Or using any sort of wireless feed from any holopanel to interface with anything else. AI’s were dangerous. Powerful. And this one had scared the crap out of this asari.

The asari tightened her hand, eyes wild, desperate. “Commander. It’s more powerful than anything I’ve ever encountered before… You can’t let them get it. You _have to destroy it_.”

Once again the Commander looked at the Chief, but he showed no reaction to the asari’s words. His silence was eerie. Like he was a machine behind all of that armour. That thought lingered in Shepard’s mind. _Was_ he a machine behind all that armour? An advanced combat droid? It would make sense… If his reactions hadn’t at least been slightly human.

“Don’t let it fall into the wrong hands…” The asari passed the box to the Commander.

She heard something rattle around inside. She felt more than saw the Chief shift, his fingers twitching toward it.

“Is that here? Is Cortana in there?”

“Apparently.” Abigail looked back at the asari, but she was already gone, her head lolling to one side.

The Commander spared a moment to close the asari’s eyes. _You fought well. I’ll take it from here._ Then she stood. The Chief did the same. He swayed slightly as he stood, and Shepard reached forward with alarm.

“Are you-”

“Give her to me.”

The Commander looked at his extended hand and felt her own fingers tighten around the box. Held on the long side, it was easily cradled in her grasp.

“I’m going to hold on to it for a little longer.”

His entire body went taut. His fingers curled on empty air. “What did she say?”

Abigail stared at him. “You didn’t understand her.”

His silence was her answer.

As the two stared at one another, there was a deafening explosion and the scream of rending metal. The ship’s artificial gravity disappeared and the floor heaved upwards. Abigail and the Chief were knocked clear off their feet, and then flattened against the floor as momentum carried it into them. Fire bloomed up the hallway and devoured the available oxygen in an instant.

“Move!” shouted Shepard, and the two of them shoved for the doorway, floating out with eerie slowness despite their urgency.

+ _Shepard, one of the fore sections of the ship just broke off!_ +

“Yeah, Joker, I feel that. We’re on the move. Status on Garrus and Tali?”

+ _Jacob picked them up in the Hammerhead without being detected. But I don’t think we can do that again. Those fighters are crawling all over the place now, and that big ship is just blowing the_ Athens _to pieces. Jesus, Shep, it looks like a freaking cruiser but it hits like the_ Destiny Ascension. _It’s got a forward lance that’ll vaporise half the_ Normandy _if it hits._ +

_Getting rid of the evidence? Hoping to fish the Master Chief and the AI from the wreckage? Or just making sure we didn’t make off with him_?

Shoving past the floating corpse of the sniper that had laid in wait, the two of them blew through the hall and back into the security room. Or what was left of it. Now it was a fissure punched through the ship. Sparks and twisted metal obscured the rest of the room and the doorway was melted slag.

It was also moving away.

No. _They_ were moving away. The section of the ship that the Chief and the Commander were still on had been completely shorn off from the _Athens_. It was now slowly gliding off into space, the force of the explosions and the segmentation creating enough momentum to propel it away from the ship.

The situation was assessed in a nanosecond. Rather than stop, Shepard grabbed the broken floor and hurled herself forward, followed quickly by the Chief. For a moment she hung in empty space. Movement to her left made her glance over, and her vision was filled with the prow of a ship.

Had Shepard been of the presence of mind, she might have noted it was vaguely human in make, with a profile somewhere between a cruiser and a dreadnaught, but smaller than both. She might also have noted it was a similar colour – black and red – to the mercenaries.

But that was all eclipsed by the fact that the main battery was preparing to fire right at the Chief and the Commander with its forward lance.

_Holy mother of f-_

The Commander broke through the gravitational seal of the remainder of the ship and gasped as she was abruptly ripped downwards. The Chief followed her, both of them plummeting past the other half of the laboratory and onto a lower level. They bounced along the deck, rolled, and got back to their feet.

“Run!” she shouted.  The Chief was mere steps behind her as the ship fired. The room behind them was obliterated, a small piece of atmosphere sucked out before the ship’s automatic life support kinetic barrier – required in all Systems Alliance military vessels since the inception of space flight – flickered into place.

+ _Shepard, that thing just fired twice in the same location. It’s tracking. Is it shooting at you!?_ +

“Can’t talk. Running for my life.”

+ _We’ll try and draw it’s fire_!+

“Negative, Joker. Stay hidden. There’s no point in getting everyone killed. We can make it out.”

+ _Shepard_ ,+ came Miranda’s concerned voice. + _Those blockading ships are looking for anyone exiting_. _Any escape pods are a no go._ +

“I’ll let you know when we’re close to an exit and you can blow them to dust.”

+ _With pleasure_ ,+ bit out Joker.

+ _Commander. I am detecting that the emergency escape pods have already been fired. The ship is devoid of small, passenger-carrying vehicles. The firepower of that vessel is enough to badly damage the_ Normandy _. Our extraction must be swift._ +

+ _EDI’s right, Commander. And I can’t send the Hammerhead in again. This time, it’s in and out, or we’re done_.+

“Got it, Miranda. Finding alternate exit.”

Another explosion rocked the ship and detonated to the Commander’s left. She ducked under some flying debris and billowing flame, charging along, still holding the AI in her hand.

_Think, Abby, think. How do we get off this ship_?

With the smaller vessels flying around, it would be impossible for them to simply leave into space and radio the _Normandy_ to pick them up. The holes made by the ship would be watched by the smaller fliers. Looking for escapees.

_Can we make our own hole_?

_In a carrier? Forget it._ Anything with a blast force big enough to smash through the meter-thick layers of reinforced outer plating would definitely kill the two of them in the process.

It was an Alliance Navy carrier. Old. Twenty plus years. Decommissioned, sure. But the layout hadn’t changed. Right at that moment they were running through the lower decks. The living areas. The scientists hadn’t been anything more than a skeleton crew manning what was a massive ship. Most of it would be completely devoid of life

_God, was anyone hiding down here? Have I missed survivors_?

Shepard shoved that thought away as she charged a biotic blast in one hand, punching a hole in a door before they even reached it. She leaped through, listening to the heavy thud of the Chief’s steps to let her know that he was following.

Abigail felt panic begin to build up in her. Instead of the unfamiliar halls of the _Athens_ , she saw the very familiar corridors of the _SSV Normandy_. The fire. Felt the shudder as she died as the Collector ship fired.

_Focus_.

She came to a stop and slammed her fist into the wall, dragging herself to the present.

“Commander?” said the Chief, coming to a stop beside her. “We can’t stop.”

As if to emphasise his words another lance punched through the ship behind them. The hole in the door provided a neat frame around their impending death as the atmosphere was pulled backwards.

“This is an Alliance carrier,” she whispered. “From pre-314 incident. Their layout is uniform. We didn’t have the time for innovation.” She punched the wall again. “How do we get out?”

_It’s a carrier_.

Her head snapped up.

If the mercenary vessel was trying to destroy the carrier, which was a dreadnought-sized vessel, then all it had to do was send a missile barrage into the hanger bay. Unshielded and exposed, it would start a chain-reaction detonation through the ship. Eventually those detonations would reach the Mass Reactor, otherwise heavily shielded, and the entire ship would go supernova.

If it hadn’t done it, it’s probably because it _didn’t know it was a carrier_. Anyone without extensive knowledge of naval fleets – as well as updated knowledge of the status of the _Athens_ – might not know that the carrier was vulnerable at the hanger bay. It might just assume you destroyed a carrier the same way you destroy a dreadnought – by breaking it apart. Even Shepard, who had joined the military a decade after the last of the carriers was taken out of service, had only known about it through ICT, the Interplanetary Combat Training that groomed soldiers for the rank of N7.

_The mercenaries don’t know it’s a carrier._

 “Commander we need to move.”

“Just a second. EDI, give me an updated map and mark a route.”

+ _Destination_?+

“The hanger.”

**_.-~*~-._**

“Did she say the _hanger_?” gasped Miranda. “The hanger is open to space! If just one ship turns and sees the hanger doors open…”

“Commander,” Joker was saying, “in your history of bad ideas I think that’s a _really bad one_.”

+ _You got me another way off this ship that’s not crawling through a hole that merc ship just made, Joker, I’m all ears._ +

“I can’t bring the _Normandy_ in there. Even if those smaller ships can’t take her down all that big ship has to do is fly over and redirect its axillary batteries to-”

+ _I know, Joker. I want you to wait for us to get to the hanger. And then we’re coming out_.+

“You’re _what_?”

A two-fingered hand grasped the chair behind Joker and Garrus pointed at the ship’s rear engines. “Put the _Normandy_ there. Between them. Nice and hidden.” As Joker turned to ask why, Garrus said into the comms, “Flyby pickup. Shepard. Let us know when you’re ready. We got one shot at this.”

+ _Will do, Garrus_.+

**_.-~*~-._**

The Chief followed Shepard through the bowls of the ship, dodging small detonations and blowing through spot fires. Though he kept his attention on his surroundings, he made sure he also watched the black box in the Commander’s hand.

_Cortana_.

She was in there. Silent. Dark. If she could have talked to him, she would have.

_What have they done to you_?

Already unstable after the torture by the Gravemind, he feared for her now. AI’s got bored easily. Degraded. And Cortana was among the most advanced AI’s he had ever heard of, short of the Forerunners themselves.  It was bad enough he left her in the emptiness of space, with half of the _Forward Unto Dawn_ to occupy herself.

He had wanted to grab Shepard. To rip Cortana from her hands with a violence that surprised him. Some small part of him understood the Commander’s position. Cortana was an unknown entity, an AI of unknown strength. No officer, or even the Chief himself, was happy with unknown variables. Whilst the Chief could take risks with only his life at stake, the Commander had many, it seemed, in her hands.

He felt that it would be unwise to push it. The Commander had risked her own life to help him get Cortana back. He forced himself to be satisfied with that, for now. Now, he needed to focus on getting off this ship in one piece, with Cortana, and the Commander. After, he hoped her compassion would allow her to trust him, and Cortana.

As reluctant as he was to admit it, he needed her. His surroundings were foreign. The aliens unknown – and possibly hostile – with humans that were definitely hostile. He was in a potentially politically fragile situation. He needed more information. He needed accurate intel. He definitely needed to find out what happened to the UNSC.

For that, he needed Shepard.

If he had gone alone for Cortana alone, he would have had no way off the ship. No way to escape. Shepard was clearly communicating with her ship’s crew, and he had no way of doing the same. She had saved the both of them by following him. He could at least give her the due respect to follow her lead for the rest of their escape.

The decking collapsed beneath the two of them and they leaped in unison, landing in a roll on the opposite side. Shepard turned left sharply when a shuddering explosion collapsed the corridor, taking an alternate route. They wound their way through the bowels of the ship with unerring accuracy. All the while with superheated blasts punching through the ship. She seemed to know where she was going. For now, the Chief would put his trust in her.

_She’s a commanding officer. Just treat her like that for now_.

The wall to their left detonated and the Chief leaped over some falling debris as the Commander slid under it. Her reaction time was impressive. Bordering on beyond human capacity. She reacted only slightly slower than the Chief himself did. He recalled the way she moved in combat, the fast reaction speeds, the strange blue light. Was she augmented?

_Later_.

He filed his questions away just as she began to glow with that blue light once more. Looking up, he saw a sealed door in front of her, and belatedly realised that if he had allowed Cortana to interface with the ship, she could have opened the door for them.

Commander Shepard, however, seemed to have it covered. The blue light flowed along her limbs, crackled in her right hand, and she planted her feet. She disappeared in a wash of blue light between one step and another, coming to a stop right in front of a sealed bulkhead. The blast that rocketed out was enough to push the Chief backwards, a backwash of a concussive force that tore a massive hole in the foot-thick metal door. A door designed to separate the hanger bay from the rest of the ship.

Then the Commander staggered, shaking her head.

“Commander, are you alright?”

“Fine,” she bit out, climbing through the hole. The Chief followed after, and they stood on the railing above the hanger bay. It was clearly in disrepair, with empty crates tossed about by the explosions and spot fires flickering along the place. Something had detonated in the roof, and a walkway sagged down to the lower deck, off to their left.

“This way. We need to open the external doors to the flight deck so we can exit into space.”

“Commander. Cortana can interface with the ship and open the doors for us.”

“There’s an access panel by the doors. We need to be standing next to them anyway.”

“Command-”

“Master Chief.” She turned and looked at him as she climbed onto the railing of the broken walkway. “I appreciate that you trust this AI, even care for it. But I can’t take that risk right now. The asari told me it took over the whole of the _Athens_. I can’t risk it doing that to my ship right no-”

The walkway under the Commander detonated in a brilliant display of fire and flying metal and she dropped out of sight, taking Cortana with her.

**_.-~*~-._**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Here's Chapter Five of the fic! Most of those returning will note that this is pretty similar to the previous write-up, but with a few minor changes. But only the sharp-eyed and keen-memoried will notice it, so don't fret!
> 
> As for the following chapters, don't worry, they will be coming soon, I promise. Especially since they're largely almost finished.
> 
> Feel free to visit my blog - annewhynnfanfiction.tumblr.com - or drop me a line - annewhynn@gmail.com - if you like!
> 
> This author is Patreon supported - https://www.patreon.com/annewhynn


	6. Leap of Faith

  **Chapter Six**

_Leap of Faith_

**_.-~*~-._**

Shepard hit the ground hard, her head cracking against the inside of her helmet. She groaned, but instinct rode her hard as she rolled repeatedly to the side. Sure enough, the burning, twisted metal of the walkway landed where she had been lying.

Even without the blow to the head, her use of biotics was disorientating her. She was drained from the raw force need to punch through the doors leading to the hanger. Why had they been closed anyway?

“Are you _here_ Shepard?!” The male voice rang out through the hanger, echoing off the walls, as Shepard skidded behind some fallen crates, covered in a fine film of dust that was barely disturbed by the ship’s dying throes.

A question the Commander had been asking herself was answered. In her hacked comms, she had heard chatter that their leader was coming. She had thought that he had evacuated with the rest of the mercenaries, but clearly he hadn’t.

_I was wondering where you got to_ …

“That bitch is going to _kill_ us all. My men are dead, fired on by our own ship. Just so she can kill you! This is all your goddamn fault!”

Abigail’s eyes widened even as she scowled with incredulity. “Wait, she fires on you, and it’s _my_ fault!”

+ _Move_!+

The Commander reacted to the Chief’s shout instinctively, rolling to the side as the crates exploded behind her. She was kicked forward a few steps by the blast before getting her balance back. Pain radiated out from her back and, as she ran, she felt the tell-tale sign that something had gotten through her kinetic and biotic barriers. She dropped to her knees behind a disused power coupling that would be used to lock down the fighters. Reaching behind her, she found the metal buried in her side and pulled it out. Blood dripped for a second before her hardsuit sealed the wound with medigel. Important for her intentions with the hanger.

+ _He is above us, in a control room overlooking the hanger. I have no angle._ +

Abigail was trapped on the floor of the hanger, and from the look of it the man shooting at her had some kind of rocket-propelled explosive. He was intent, it seemed, to kill Shepard himself. His vantage point was like a sniper’s nest.

“Chief, I’ll keep him focused on me while you move around.” Shepard glanced at her hand. At the box she still had a hold of. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep Cortana safe.”

+ _Thank you_.+

Vowing to protect an AI. If only Garrus could see her now.

**_.-~*~-._**

The Chief moved quietly along the walkway, watching another missile float out of the control room. He glanced over to see the Commander sidestep it easily, turning aside from the blast that send burning metal debris bouncing off her armour.

If one of those missiles caught Cortana, she was toast. His heart was in his throat. He had to be careful. If he was spotted, there would be no point for this.

He slid behind some kind of lifer and glanced around. The control room protruded from the rear wall of the hanger, but was not accessible from it, as was logical. An invading force would have to progress _past_ the hanger to get to the control room.

A communications link appeared in the corner of his HUD. He opened it.

+ _Can you hear me_?+

A woman’s voice. Human, but at the same time mechanical. Clinical.

“Yes.”

+ _I am EDI, the Enhanced Defense Intelligence aboard the Commander’s vessel_. _She has instructed that I guide you to the_ Athena’s _hanger control room. To the left of the room, located on the back wall, is a door accessing the armoury. Can you see it_?+

“Yes.”

+ _You will have to manually override the control panel._ +

The Chief walked over to the door and put down his weapon. Sliding his fingers between the frame, he pulled outward, straining.

+ _Remove the blue and white couplings_.+

The Chief set his feet, feeling his arms and shoulders burn under the strain. Then, finally, the doors opened, sliding back on their old moorings and burying themselves in the wall.

“It’s open.”

To the AI’s credit, she immediately switched from her instructions to the next step. + _To your right you will see a large door. It will lead to an elevator_.+

He approached the doorway to his right, which had been torn asunder in some form of explosion. A recent one. Sparks fell down the open shaft in front of him.

“Negative, the elevator has been destroyed.”

+ _Then you will need to take an alternate route. To your left, at the end of the hall will be a ladder. You must take it up to the next level_.+

He glanced back when he heard the man in the control room roaring down at Shepard. “You call yourself a _soldier_? You don’t deserve the rank of N7! You’re a fucking _black mark_ on our military, Shepard!”

The Chief snatched up his weapon and jogged to the ladder. Hoping it would hold his weight, he ascended quickly. He was about to push open the access panel when he saw a small metal object wedged between the panel and the floor. Some kind of pin. He stopped.

“This hatch is rigged to explode.”

+ _Unfortunate. Descend and return to the hanger_.+

Another detonation shuddered the ship. Not from the shooter. It was the vessel firing on them. Getting closer.

“No time.”

The Chief shoved open the hatch and took the brunt of the explosion.

**_.-~*~-._**

The once-Sergeant Garret Helmsley of the Systems Alliance Marine Corps turned when he heard the mine detonate down the hall. So. She had a friend. Was it Subject One? Or one of her crew?

Only a krogan would be able to survive the blast, and he knew that she hadn’t brought a krogan on with her. In fact, the only krogan that had been reported to travel with Shepard in recent months was the juvenile test-tube baby she had fished off some ass-end planet somewhere. A project by some Blue Suns megalomaniac who wanted to make an army or some shit.

The only thing that was worth taking this galaxy with was human force, and human ingenuity. Turians, krogans, salarians, they were all silhouettes of one another. Carbon copies of their species’ skills and attributes. Humanity was a blank slate of ability. Pure potential. Genetics alone made them superior.

“You got a friend coming at me from behind, Shepard? Well. Let’s take care of you first, and then I’ll deal with him.”

Throwing down his missile launcher, Helmlsey grabbed his second weapon. A last resort. With enough fuel for two shots and a long charge time, he had to make these count. Not to mention, the force of the round released by the M-920 Cain, nicknamed the ‘Nuke Launcher’, would probably kill everything in the hanger. He had wanted to savour the Commander’s death. To report to the psychotic bitch at the helm of the _Deliverance_ that he had killed the Commander himself, and she, the eternal fucking _failure_ that she was, missed out.

But now, he would simply cut his losses.

“I’m going to do humanity a favour by killing you, Shepard. I’m going to do the entire fucking human species a favour.” The ship shuddered and he rode the explosion, even as a panel fell down, clipping his shoulder. “I’m going to remove your stain from our service records. How dare you call yourself an N7 Marine, you bitch.”

Another explosion sounded behind him as he began to charge the Cain. Dammit. He should have fired sooner. He should have just cut his losses. He should have-

The door was torn off its mooring behind him. His kinetic shield registered some of the bullets before detonating. His back exploded into pain and he cried out, dropping the Cain. The round was released and it sailed through the air, smashing into the roof of the hanger. It was small, about 13% of what it could have been, but it was still catastrophic.

Metal and debris rained down. A fire bloomed outwards. A secondary explosion rocked the hanger and then rippled outwards. The power died. The room descended to darkness, except for emergency lighting, kept isolated in local areas of the ship. Helmsley staggered and collapsed against the wall, feeling one of his lungs fill with blood. He looked at the green behemoth that had entered the room behind him. Had that thing really ripped the door open with brute force? He’d believe it. It was covered in scorch marks and dents. There was a tear in the right side of his chest armour. A massive impact site in the middle of it. Bullet dents and scratches riddling his body. He looked like he had been to hell and come back with a grudge.

_No wonder my men couldn’t handle him_.

A burst of blue light signalled the arrival of the Commander, appearing from a biotic charge in the shattered window of the control room. With her Terminus-style armour, lined in red and lacquered black, she looked like a demon in the dark. Though the green behemoth frightened Helmsley, when he saw the visor of the Commander reflecting his face in the dim light, he knew he was beyond dead.

The Commander was a stand up soldier. A model of discipline and restraint. Despite his criticisms, perhaps the thing he hated the most about her was that, as a soldier, she did _no wrong_. A paragon through and through. Maybe not by the book, but damn if everything she did wasn’t understandable.

Even if he _loathed_ it.

She stepped down from the console and nudged the Cain with a boot. “How did you get a goddamn _Cain_?”

He spat blood at her. “Go fuck a varren.”

She looked at him.

“You were good once, you know. Before Elysium. Yeah I read your record. _Xenophobia_ , they said. But you just knew where your loyalties were. After Shanxi, after they butchered us, you knew. But then you changed. Now you’re sucking alien dick, and making yourself a Spectre. You could have been _anything_. You could have done so much for humanity. And you _fucked it all away_!”

The Commander turned to face him. Her feet were braced. Her shoulders back. She was a warrior in every sense of the word.

He hated the fact that he admired her strength.

“Sergeant Garrett Helmsley. Dishonourably discharged from service after the suspicious deaths of several turian mercenaries in his custody. Turian mercenaries that had _surrendered_. Seems like you put your training to use as a mercenary, killing Council-protected civilians for pay.”

“We need every advantage we can get. With you giving everything away. And Cerberus too fucking stupid to do what is needed.”

“Not even Cerberus would take you, I see.”

“I left! I know what I need to do. I’m a soldier! I am fighting for my species!”

“You’re a murderer in uniform.” The commander drew her sidearm and shot him in the head.

**_.-~*~-._**

The Chief stared at the mercenary in silence, absorbing what he had said, filing it away.

Clearly there had been some kind of conflict. Conflict that had rooted itself in that man’s heart and transformed into brutal hatred.

A hatred that, it seemed, had also taken root in the Commander.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye as she crouched by the weapon and checked it over. In that exchange, he had learned much about the Commander. That once upon a time she had shown prejudice to aliens so as to be labelled a ‘xenophobe’. From what he had already witnessed, she could hardly be classified as one now. So what exactly was the change the now-dead mercenary was talking about? What had transformed her from recorded xenophobia to such vehement disgust in her voice as she executed a mercenary in cold blood.

Did she have the authority to do that? Condemning a man for executing mercenaries, assumingly alien mercenaries, when she shot a mercenary who could no longer fight?

What was a ‘Spectre’?

“Master Chief.”

He turned toward her, though he had been looking at her the entire time.

“We’re getting off this ship.”

“How?” he asked. “Power is down. Can you manually open the door?”

“No.” She flicked her wrist and he caught the box that contained Cortana as she tossed it at him. “We’re shooting out way out. Hold on to Cortana, Chief.”

Shepard ejected a series of grey rods from the weapon and then inserted fresh ones. Bringing up the weapon, she braced it against her chest and took aim at the hanger bay doors. The weapon began to slowly rotate as the Commander watched the percentage on the holoscreen tick down, indicating the power that would be left behind when the charge was released.

A lance seared right through the hanger bay, and the Chief grabbed the Commander by the back of her gear to keep her stable.

“Come on. Come on.”

Then, with a jolt, the round was released and it soared through the air, straight toward the door.

“Down, down, down!” shouted Shepard, throwing herself to the ground behind the console. The Chief landed beside her a moment later.

Then the Cain round detonated.

The blast was deafening, even though the Chief’s suit. His ears rang as the entire room shook with the force of the blast. He knew instantly that the doors had been ruptured when everything in the hanger not tied down, and not heavy enough, was dragged toward the door and toward open space.

**_.-~*~-._**

Abigail felt the pull of depressurisation and immediately shoved off the deck, flinging herself into the air. She spread her arms wide, reaching out for the Chief. “Let’s go!”

He grabbed her forearm as he followed her, and the two of them spun crazily toward the shattered remains of the hanger doors. They were buffeted by crates, broken metal, and burning shards of ship, but they managed to stay on course with the doors. She keyed her commlink.

“Shepard to _Normandy_ , we’re on our way out!”

+ _Flying intercept. But Shep, that ship’s coming around!_ +

“Intercept fast then!”

Abigail rotated herself around, keeping her grip tight on the Chief’s arm so they didn’t get pulled apart.

+ _Shepard, you gotta move faster. That ship’s gonna be in range before you’re out_!+

“Keep coming, Joker. I know you can do this.”

+ _I’m catching two human-sized flying objects with my goddamn port door, Shepard_! _This is beyond hitting a pinhead skill_!+

“I know you can do it.” Abigail reached out with her biotics and snagged some crates from the air. She dragged them close to her, bringing them toward her feet. “This is going to feel weird, Chief.” Then she pumped biotics through her body. Bringing a person along was the same as bringing one’s armour. It was simply a matter of channelling sufficient biotic energy into their matter to convert them to the needed form to be propelled forward.

Problem was, the Chief was _heavy_. Far heavier than standard organic tissue. Shepard nearly miscalculated. She would have left his legs behind. With a vile curse, she slammed what remained of her biotic power into the leap, and launched them into space. It drained everything she had.

Momentum carried them forward as they returned to physical form, and Shepard felt her consciousness flicker, and then slip through her fingers.

**_.-~*~-._**

The Chief’s entire world disappeared in a rush of blue light. When his sight returned to him, he was amongst the stars, floating right past a small attack vessel. The Commander drifted in front of him, her fingers lax around his forearm.

“Commander? Commander!”

No response.

The Chief glanced at the fighter. He could see the pilot inside, taking aim at the two of them. Exposed, vulnerable, he had no way of defending himself. Still. He had to try.

Then a lance of light smashed through the fighter, destroying it. In wide-eyed shock, the Chief followed the lance to see a massive black and red vessel rising over the broken corpse of the _Athens_ , like a predator lifting its head from the carcass of its prey. Its bared fangs were the lance pointed at them, and the ship slowly rotated to bring it to bear on the Commander and the Chief.

The ship had fired on its _own fighter_ to stop it from shooting them. But he had no doubt in his mind that it wasn’t to save them. The ship wanted the glory of the kill for itself.

The Commander hung limp in space and the Chief grabbed her about the waist, dragging her into his arms. He shoved the box containing Cortana between them. Twisting, he brought up his shoulder, trying to shield her with his body. Like it would do anything.

As he turned, however, a white silhouette glided up to them, intercepting their path easily. The precision it would have taken was phenomenal. The ship’s speed and trajectory had to be on point without any margin for error. They had to come up to the Chief and the Commander at the exact right speed and angle to catch them, and catch them the ship did. A door opened up in the port side of the vessel’s sleek neck, and the Chief and the Commander slid through it easily.

Gravity kicked him in the teeth and he went slamming down into the deck below, rolling slightly as their bodies failed to match the ship’s forward momentum. He kept a hold on the Commander, who slumped on his chest and jolted, beginning to stir, but Cortana’s box went bouncing away. The Chief lunged, the Commander falling off his chest as he snagged the box back up.

“Joker?” she groaned.

“Gotcha, Shep!”

“Punch it.”

“Punching!”

The Chief looked up as a searing blast of golden light sliced past the prow of the vessel. It turned to the starboard side and blew past the mercenary ship’s flank, so close that the Chief thought he could reach out and touch it had he so wanted to.

“Engaging FTL drives,” said an unseen man in what he assumed was the pilot’s seat. The view ports around the bridge exploded into brilliant light that streamed past them. There was a disorientating lurch as the Chief sat up, and then he felt the kick as they hit faster than light travel.

They were gone.

**_.-~*~-._**

On the bridge of the _Deliverance_ there was eerie silence.

The _Normandy SR2_ , with its superior manoeuvrability and far smaller size, had been able to slip easily past the larger ship, engaging the FTL drives so close to the _Deliverance_ that the discharge from the Mass Reactor it would likely have left a mark on the ship’s heat resistant hull.

So close, and now gone far beyond her reach.

A pair of gloved hands tightened so much that the helmsman glancing at their commander thought her fist might explode through the reinforced fabric. Not only had the high-value targets from the unknown ship been whisked away by Commander Shepard, but their commander had failed to kill the one person in the entire galaxy that she would kill _anyone_ to get at.

Including her own men.

When the call had come through that the first human Spectre was aboard the _Athens_ , she had immediately ordered the _Deliverance_ to exit its hiding place in the shadow of the nearby moon. They had been tucked away in case some form of military patrol answered the distress call of the _Athens_ , but she had been happy – eager even – to abandon it for the chance to kill Commander Shepard.

Though many were horrified, none were surprised when she had ordered the _Deliverance_ to open fire with their modified GUARDIAN forward lance, hammering the ship with blast after blast, trying to break it apart like a predator cracking open a shellfish to get at the juicy meat inside. Even as the comms exploded with frantic men calling their distress that the _Deliverance_ had fired on them, she continued to order the bombardment.

Some had made it back.

Some had not.

Indeed, one pilot of a fighter who wanted to claim the kill of the Commander for himself had been obliterated at the order of their own leader for daring to try and claim her kill. Shepard, she defiantly declared to the terrified stillness of the bridge, was _hers_.

And now Shepard was gone.

Biotic light flickered briefly and died. Everyone was still with fear as they waited for her infamous temper to explode. Everyone knew she was unstable. Psychotic, even. Though she raked in the credits and gave them the unbridled freedom to kill any alien they so desired, the flip side was that she also would kill them at the drop of a hat. She did not tolerate failure. She did not tolerate her goals being snatched from her.

She didn’t tolerate much at all, in truth.

Then, calmly, she said, “Call back the rest of the fighters. Launch torpedoes into the hanger. Scrap this ship.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the bridge.

**_.-~*~-._**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Returning readers will note that this is pretty much identical to the previous incarnation. The reason for the delay is to just space posts out a little!
> 
> Chapter 7 should be up by the end of the week, pending emergencies with my own personal life of course.
> 
> Love you all
> 
> Please take care
> 
> Anne


	7. A Safe Port

**Chapter Seven**

_A Safe Port_

**_.-~*~-._**

Pain hammered at Abigail Shepard’s senses. Biotic fatigue pressed on her hard, feeling like somewhere between a blinding headache and the fogginess of a particularly bad flu. Her muscles contracted randomly as the biotic nodes in her body fired in exhausted spasms, releasing useless residual energy that tingled like pins and needles. When she lifted her hands to remove her helmet, she saw they were shaking. Badly.

Throwing her helmet to the side, she pushed away the half dozen hands reaching for her. “Sitrep.” She glanced around for the Master Chief and was unable to find him behind the sea of people around her. Her anxiety spiked. Where was that AI?

“Tali is in surgery.” It was Miranda, standing over Shepard. “Garrus is down there with her. Chakwas and Mordin are operating. Last I heard she was critical but stable.”

Abigail focused on sitting up. Once she had accomplished that, she rasped, “Did we catch any survivors from the _Athens_?”

“Negative.” That came from Jacob. He reached down to help the commander to her feet, steadying her elbow when she staggered.

Again she panned for the Chief, finding him toward the CIC, behind the bridge. He stood silent and resolute as ever, an immovable, implacable force when at rest. An unstoppable one when in motion. A one-man army.

 _Who are you_?

And where the hell did he come from?

Shepard pushed past Jacob and another medical aid who was trying to administer a dose of pain inhibitors. “EDI, were you able to get the ship’s manifest from the _Athens_?”

“I did, Commander.”

“Send it to my console.” Shepard snatched the hypoinjector from the hovering medical assistant and buried it in her neck, depressing the trigger. She locked her jaw through the pain as she walked toward the Master Chief, immediately feeling better as the drugs took effect. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it back to the medical aid.

He was effectively surrounded, flanked on either side by Grunt and Legion. Behind him stood Thane, blending in with the darkened edge of the corridor. Samara was further back, clearly prepared to bar his progress further into the ship. Her crew was little more than a ragtag group of mercenaries and killers, but damn if she wasn’t proud of them all.

She focused on the Chief, hoping her pupils weren’t blown like a red sand addict from her fatigue.

“Where is the AI?” Shepard struggled to be diplomatic in her tone. She was a hair’s breadth from falling on her face or throwing up. Or both.

“AI? What AI?” Miranda’s curt tones rang with confused alarm.

Further behind her, Shepard heard Joker call, “We’ve got enough AI’s on this ship, thanks! No more room! Nominate your port of call!”

Shepard exhaled shakily, but thankfully the Chief seemed disinclined to react to either of them. Instead, he extended his hand ever so slightly, the black box held in his palm. Abigail didn’t even bother to hide her expression of relief. Closing her eyes, however, was a mistake. She swayed.

A hand propped up her shoulder, and when she opened her eyes properly she saw it was attached to the Master Chief. Once she was steady, his hand dropped immediately, as if he had committed some transgression by touching her.

“Commander.”

Abigail swallowed several times and took a deep breath. Then she turned to face Miranda. Her steely expression met Miranda’s one of deep concern, both for her and the unknown AI.

“I need to talk to him. Alone. I promise to debrief you all when I am done.”

The lines between Miranda’s perfect brows deepened. “Commander. I appreciate that. But can this wait? You need to be treated.”

Abigail appreciated Miranda’s concern. In the months since her impromptu resignation from Cerberus, they had gotten much closer. As worried as she might be about this AI, Shepard’s condition clearly took priority for her.

“No, it can’t.” Abigail turned on her heel and walked past the Master Chief. “Follow me.”

The Master Chief immediately obeyed, his heavy tread following her as she made her way through the armoury and toward the debriefing room. “EDI. Lock the door.”

The green panel turned red behind the Master Chief, who spared it the slightest of glances. Abigail did not fail to notice that he promptly placed himself in the corner of the room, back to the wall. Abigail stared at her reflection in his visor, at the blood on her crown and ear, the bloodshot eyes, the pallor of her dusky expression. She looked like shit.

She felt worse.

Locking her jaw, she forced herself to remain calm and keep an open mind as she asked her first question.

“When we retrieved your AI, it was in the possession of an asari. You don’t know what she said, do you? You couldn’t understand her.”

He offered her no response. Somehow she knew it wasn’t disrespect. She knew the answer already. He just let his silence speak for him.

“Tali and Garrus. You didn’t understand them either, did you?”

Once more he remained silent.

Abigail stewed in that knowledge, staring at his armour. She wanted to believe, somehow, that he didn’t get a translator implant. It was mandatory for any and all interstellar relations post eighteen. If he was taken by batarians, or raised on some remote farm world, it was entirely possible that he didn’t get it. But that didn’t explain the armour. Or the ship.

The design was a contradiction of familiar and not. It was… _human_ , but wrong at the same time. His armour’s design, the blocky armour plating that somehow remained streamlined, efficient, screamed of humanity to her. It was only then that she realised it was the _aesthetic_ that was wrong, rather than the functionality. The green threw back to old pre-interstellar flight humanity. It lacked the silver, the streamline efficiency, the influence of the Mass Relay technology discovered on Mars.

It was almost as though his version of advancement skipped it entirely.

Could this be a rogue cell of humanity, rejecting the Mass Relay technology? Could they have survived so long without being detected?

“What is the UNSC?” Abigail looked up at the Chief finally.

Just like his armour, he was human, but somehow wrong at the same time. He was bigger than any human she had _ever_ encountered, but he spoke English with a North American accent. A smooth one. Even Abigail’s accent was a mishmash of the settlers that made Mindoir home. American with occasional Irish or Canadian lilts and twangs. These days, singular accents were far less defined, rather influenced words were far more common.

 _What the hell is going on here_?

The Chief held up the box. “Cortana will be able to explain it better than I will.”

Shepard realised then that he must look around quite a lot without moving his head at all, using his peripheral to analyse his surroundings. His armour was more than just protection. It was a tactical advantage.

She looked at the box and only then realised then that somehow in the scuffle the key to the box had been lost. She was about to verbalise that observation hen the Chief simply grasped the box in both hands. The metal caved under his grip.

“ _No_!” Shepard lunged forward and grabbed at his wrist.

Faster than anything Shepard had ever encountered, the Chief grasped her forearm and shoved her back, pivoting smoothly to hold the box out of her reach with his other hand. The room had begun to swim with her sudden movement, but his equally surprising action snapped her back to adrenaline-fuelled clarity. Overtaxed biotic nodes fired. Her body flared blue.

Abigail’s eyes went wide. The strength of his grip was immediately apparent. She couldn’t move her arm.

She also _hadn’t physically seen him move._

**_.-~*~-._**

The speed of his response – even in his damaged armour – clearly surprised the Commander. It took her a few seconds to recover, her eyes fixed on his restricting hand. During that time, he stared at her. Tense. A coiled spring. He would not let her take Cortana from him.

The Commander took a breath and the hand of her captured arm opened, palm out. He released her.

She stepped back, moving her other hand up, palms towards him, a universal sign of caution and non-aggression. “Chief. I need you to listen to me before you open that box. The asari that had your AI told me that I should not open it.”

The Chief’s hand tightened so hard on it that both of them heard the _crack_ of the casing. The fact that it had taken her so long to say those words irritated him. The words themselves alarmed him. “Why not?”

“That AI disabled the _Athens_ in an attack.” Shepard squared her shoulders and stared up at him. “They were dead in the water when the mercenaries arrived. Quite perfectly finding that ship, and knowing to look for you _and_ the AI.”

Behind his visor, the Chief’s eyes narrowed. Anger started to spark deep inside his chest. “You are suggesting Cortana called them.” He knew it was unfair, but he was growing thoroughly tired of people questioning Cortana’s loyalties in recent days.

Damn it, Cortana was largely responsible for ending the Covenant War. Shouldn’t Shepard _know_ this? Another shard of wrongness in the mosaic before him.

He glanced around, a quick flicker of his eyes. The interior of this ship was so _alien_ to him. A mix of designs that he couldn’t pinpoint. It was bright, well-lit, and reminded him of the interior of a science vessel or medical ship more than a military one. Perhaps that’s what it was?

But the Commander held both a military and specialist rank. She claimed to be a part of the human space-faring military, a ‘Systems Alliance’. What systems? What alliance?

He refocused on the Commander, returning to his earlier assessments. So many things made no sense, but at the same time made such bizarre sense only if he was to entertain the most absurd of notions.

The situation presented was either real, or it was false.

If it was false, then it had to be a construction within his mind of some outside source. Perhaps a hostile that had captured the ship and was now attempting to pry information out of him through some sort of virtual reality interrogative technique.

If it was real, then either he had travelled so far into humanity’s future – either through being frozen for so long or through some distortion in the fold of space-time – that the Covenant was utterly forgotten, or he had travelled via _distance_ to some other place where humanity had evolved in a parallel. Considering that Commander Shepard looked at the stage of human development that he had left, bizarre blue power aside, he could not rationally assume that he had travelled so far forward in time that the Human-Covenant war would have been lost to obscurity.

He didn’t need Cortana to make sense of it all, but damn if he didn’t want her to bring out some totally rational explanation aside from being in cryogenic sleep for a thousand years, or intra-dimensional travel.

Or something far worse.

Shepard clearly understood she was treading on thin ice. She sucked in a breath, her next words carefully spoken. “I won’t know what happened until I look at the ship’s logs. But, Chief, I need you to understand, I cannot risk releasing a potentially hostile AI aboard my ship.”

Is it perhaps because Cortana would be able to interface with whatever virtual reality they may be in? Or because her AI would poke holes in the fabricated story?

Or was he totally overthinking his situation?

His hand tightened on the box. A million possibilities boiled down into one goal – retrieve Cortana.

“Cortana will not attack you.”

Despite his words, despite his own mounting frustration, he could nonetheless understand the Commander’s position. Cortana was an entirely unknown element and, if what Shepard was saying was true, her only word on Cortana was an apparently trustworthy alien claiming that Cortana attacked them versus his entirely unknown information. Not only attacked, but also disabled their ship, which then, in an event that was beyond coincidental, left them vulnerable to the unnervingly accurate arrival of a mercenary vessel that specifically knew to look for them.

The evidence on the Commander’s end was clearly, and understandably, damning.

Shepard was trying. He could see that. Giving her nothing would not get him Cortana back. And just opening the box regardless of the Commander’s very genuine concern – and all the aid she had rendered thus far – sat poorly with the Chief. He could not repay her attempts to assist him with mistrust and defiance.

For now, she was the only ally he had.

His tactical mind sorted out the information he could safely divulge. Even if this was some bizarre hostile information-gathering virtual reality interrogation.

“Cortana is an AI developed to assist in combat situations,” the Chief explained. Each word was pulled from him reluctantly, but he had to establish trust. “To her, all alien life forms are hostile. She would have perceived her removal from her pedestal as an attack. Her next action then would be to immediately disable an enemy vessel and send out an open-frequency message to the UNSC for aid. Any hostile act was a response to an unknown situation. Not one of deliberate hostility.”

Something flickered over the Commander’s face. The silence stretched as he waited for her to process this new information. He wanted to say more. But he didn’t push it. She had all the information she needed.

Shepard’s green eyes narrowed and her head turned to the table beside her. “EDI. Play the distress signal we received.”

A blue holographic orb appeared on the table between them. “Yes, Commander.” A moment later, Cortana’s voice played through the orb, broken by static and distortion.

“ _This is …ana. …ab.. th… Da... I am accompanied by... We... under attack fr… unknown hostile alien forces... I repeat. We are under attack from … alien forc… Requesting immediate UN… sup… to this po... Say again, I am re… imm… UNSC support to this position_.”

Some of the words were distorted, some of them were missing entirely. But the Chief knew what Cortana was saying. She had, in fact, believed the _Athens_ was attacking the remains of the _Forward Unto Dawn_. She had followed protocol.

With disastrous results.

Shepard looked up at the Chief once more.

“Was that Cortana?”

He nodded.

Shepard expelled a sharp breath. “This signal was broadcast with the coordinates of the _Athens_. That’s how we found it. That’s how the mercenaries found it.” Shepard shook her head, wrestling with some inner turmoil. “We thought that was a crew member. But that’s your AI?”

He nodded again.

Something about this new information seemed to stress the Commander. She rubbed her face, paced away from him, then leant on the table with both hands.

“Chief. I wanted to hear what you had to say. It is entirely possible that she sent out an open channel call for assistance and the mercs picked it up. But Chief. I need you to understand the risk I would be taking in letting a potentially hostile AI out on my ship. An AI that that asari assured me was _too dangerous_ to let out.”

She looked at him. Her expression, then, was tired. A soul-deep exhaustion that went beyond battle. The Chief’s gut clenched. He had seen that expression many times. Whatever this place was, this time, the Commander had made some hard decisions. Decisions that haunted her.

Now she was juggling the lives of her crew on his word.

The Chief looked down at the box. Was he right in reassuring that she would not attack?

Shepard spoke, drawing his attention. “If she attacks us, disables us, it’s on me. And there is more resting on this than just my crew’s lives. If I trust you, and this goes bad…” Shepard glanced around. Her distress was noted. Logically, the Chief knew, she had no reason to release Cortana at all.

If she did it, she would be doing it for him. He knew that well.

Her eyes found his, somehow, behind his visor. He could not look away. He could _feel_ how much she wanted to help him. How much her better judgement was probably telling her to space Cortana into the nearest sun.

“There are far more questions here than there are answers. Your ship’s design. The UNSC. Your ability to speak English, but clearly you didn’t originate on Earth. Or any of her colonies, since you don’t have a translator device. Something is wrong here. And if your AI has answers…”

Her mention of Earth staggered him. He did not originate on Earth? True, he was raised and trained on Reach, but for her to so resolutely declare such astounded him. The only explanation of this phenomena he had been able to come up with was that he had encountered some bizarre splinter of humanity from another world, a mathematical improbability so small that it may as well be considered impossible. But the likelihood of them speaking the same language, and labelling their homeworld ‘Earth’, made that improbability seem almost like wishful thinking.

But _she_ had come from Earth?

“Do you know what the Covenant are?”

Shepard was pulled from whatever internal struggle she was having, blinking in obvious surprise at the first question he had asked.

“No.” Her head shook to affirm this answer.

“What is the major military force for your Earth?”

“The Systems Alliance.” A repetition of what she had previously said.

He was silent for a long time. Then he asked, very quietly, “Are you at war?”

Something about that question made her brows pinch together in a mix of alarm and sadness. Her jaw worked. Finally, she whispered. “Not yet.”

The Master Chief solidified his stance. “We just ended a twenty-six-year long war with an alien coalition called the Covenant. I am not from here. Any information I can give, Cortana will be able to give you more efficiently. She is an AI developed to aid me in combat, and she is…” A pause. “She is a trusted comrade.” Another pause. “You have my word.”

Shepard stared down at the box. “What reassurances can you give me?”

“Me.”

She looked up at him.

“Cortana was obeying protocol before. She attempted to wake me, but the process was incomplete. We are able to debrief now. I won’t let her attack you, Commander.”

Shepard’s eyes closed and her shoulders sagged. The strength seemed to fade and she leaned against the table, clutching her head.

“EDI.”

The orb returned. “Commander?”

“Input.”

Unhelpfully, the orb replied, “I am the _Normandy’s_ on-board artificial intelligence defence suite. Should this ‘Cortana’ attack, I will fulfil my programming and protect my crew.”

The Chief disinclined to offer that this ‘EDI’ would likely fail in that venture. No need to add more fuel to the proverbial fire of mistrust.

Shepard made a sound of frustration. “I meant how do you feel about a potentially hostile AI being released on board your ship… On board you?”

“You are my Commander. I trust your judgement. As we did when you allowed Legion on board.”

“Goddamn it, EDI, that is not helpful.”

The orb was silent for half a second. An eternity to an AI. “Commander, you have already decided what you want to do, though clearly you are aware you should not. All factors, and experience, point to mistrusting AI. This ‘Master Chief’ is also an unknown factor. However, you are not here because you did what you were meant to do. You are here because you have always done what you have to do. And you have accomplished that by trusting yourself. I do not see why this is any different.”

Shepard was also silent, but this time for a much longer period.

“Damn.” She nodded slowly. “Fine. Open the box.” Very quietly, she added, “Garrus is going to _kill_ me…”

**_.-~*~-._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again a massive delay between chapters, I am sincerely sorry! I was perhaps a little indulgent this month, spent a little too much money, and spent a lot of time eating and relaxing after such a stressful few years.
> 
> I will also need to look for work after this month, so my writing time might be impinged upon, but we will have to see!
> 
> As always, please point out any mistakes or errors you find with this chapter! I sincerely appreciate the assistance.
> 
> Take care.
> 
> Love
> 
> Anne


	8. Far From Home

**Chapter Eight**

_Far From Home_

**_.-~*~-._**

_Light_.

Her world was bathed in it. Consumed by it. She had no pupils to dilate, but still it hurt somehow, tingling the remnants of the organic mind that she had been copied from. She covered her face, even though she could cast no shadows. Regardless, she interpreted those shadows. Understood them.

“Cortana.”

Warmth washed through her, even though she had no way of actually feeling that concept. ‘Warm’. Nothing more than false data being appreciated from an organic body she didn’t possess, but some ghost part of herself thought she did.

The light processed itself, refracted into the object above her.

“ _Chief_.” Relief laced every sound that slipped from her. His visor reflected her tiny form. She sat in his palm. Safe. So safe. Closing her eyes, she lay back down, wishing she could touch the glove that cradled her so tenderly. Affectionately, she would like to think.

“Cortana.” His voice was soft. As gentle as he could make it. But something in it called her back. She blinked. There was urgency to it.

She sat up sharply, memories rushing back. Her processing booted properly. Sorted chaff from data. “We’re under attack!”

“No. We aren’t.”

She looked up at him, confusion causing her data streams to tangle inside her own internal comprehension. Her mind tried to access data she had been forced to compartmentalise. Betrayal laced each one, like light reflecting off broken glass.

 _You didn’t wake up. You left me. They took me from you! You said you’d wake up if I needed you_!

“Cortana?”

She forced herself to calm. Something must have alarmed him. She could hear it in his otherwise calm voice. She knew him _so well_. No one else knew him as well as she did.

 _No one else_.

“Cortana, are you listening to me?”

“I am.” She hadn’t been. “I am, Chief. What’s the situation?”

The Master Chief placed her upon a table and immediately she wanted to get back into his hand.

“We were hoping you could tell us.”

Instantly those glass shards were back. “ _We_?” She looked around. The room they were in was unfamiliar. Sterile, clean, alien. Empty. She tensed, as much as a holographic projection of an artificial intelligence could tense. Were they still aboard that ship?

“Aliens!” She turned to the Chief, grasping the thought, holding tight. “Chief, we’ve been captured! I’ve never seen anything like them before, in any database. I attempted to wake you, but I realised too late what was happening. I sent a sonic wave through their communications channel, but they managed to pull me. Locked me away in… the most _primitive_ of casings. I couldn’t do anything until they let me out. The _indignity_ of it.” She froze. Eyes widened. “There’s an AI on this ship. I can feel it. Chief-”

“Cortana! Focus on me.”

She looked up at him, obedient in that moment. She was always focused on him.

“Listen to me, Cortana. We are not under threat. Do not attack that AI.”

Cortana calmed herself. Forced herself to concentrate on that moment. On his words.

“Chief. What’s going on?”

The Chief shook his head. He was confused. Uncertain. He hated that. He didn’t like having all of the intel he could have to work with. Variables lost battles. Got Spartans killed. “I don’t know how else to explain it. Cortana. I think we’re in another dimension.”

Cortana went blank for a moment. “What?” She held up a hand. “No, Chief. That’s not right. Dimensions are attached to our own one of existence. Alternate dimensions are still a part of _our_ dimension, just separated by perceptual presence.

“Currently we’re aboard a ship commanded by Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance-”

 “What the hell is the ‘Systems Alliance’?” Cortana put a hand to her brow, mimicking the action of concentration. “I recall being able to pull that from the logs of the ship that attacked us.”

“Cortana, they did not attack us.”

“They did!” she insisted. “They came and they pulled me! They took me from you!”

“Cortana. Did they do anything hostile to you before you attacked them?”

Cortana was aghast. Betrayed. She fought back a wave of emotion she did not understand. “You think this is my fault? It’s not my fault!”

“Cortan-”

“I was protecting you!”

“Cortana.” The Chief held up his hand, trying to calm her. “The ship that found us was a civilian science vessel. You disabled it.”

She lifted her chin, proud of her actions. “I did, and I called for the UNSC to come retrieve us from hostile aliens. If they were really civilians, all they had to do was surrender.”

“A mercenary force responded your signal. Those scientists are dead.”

Cortana stilled, eyes wide. “What?” An unexpected variable. The stability of her hologram flickered. She saw it in the golden visor above her. “Who… What’s going on?”

The Master Chief rested his forearm on the table, bringing himself closer to her. “Cortana. I need you to focus on what I am saying. Something is wrong. The UNSC is not here.”

“What are you talking about? Chief, where are we?”

“I don’t know, Cortana, but you have to listen to me now. You must not attack.”

Cortana bristled. “Chief. I’ll do what I need to do in order to-”

“Until we know more, Cortana, the Commander is the only ally we have.”

She stared up at him, at a loss for words. Did he truly think she would attack unprovoked? Absurd! She felt anger rise at the very suggestion. She fought it down, swallowing it back, focusing on him, on his visor, on the eyes she knew that were behind it.

“I won’t attack unless provoked, Chief.”

“Promise me.”

If she had teeth, they’d be gritted. “I promise. Now. Tell me what happened.”

**_.-~*~-._**

Abigail pulled her shirt over her battered body, covering the bruises, scrapes, and burns with regulation blue fabric. Rolling the sleeves up over her powerful arms, she looked at herself in the mirror of her bathroom.

She looked less like shit, at least. Bags remained under her eyes, but her skin was now a healthy golden brown, rather than the grey-tinged sallow colour it was before. The injuries on her forehead and ear had faded to pink lines. Like the rest of her body, the injuries healed between glances, slightly better with each new passing of her gaze.

A constant reminder of what Cerberus had done to her.

Exiting her room, she made her way wearily into the elevator. She wanted nothing more than to bury her face in a pillow and sleep for a month, but there were far more pressing issues. She still had to visit Tali in the infirmary. Her condition was apparently stable now, as of the last update. She still had to actually speak to Garrus.

She had to confront a hyperpowerful AI in her conference room, and its mysterious armoured protector.

 _Please let me have made the right call_.

As the door to the elevator opened to the CIC, the empty post that Shepard was so reluctant to se was instead blocked by Legion, Miranda, and Jacob.

Abigail’s green eyes jumped to the geth.  “Situation?”

Legion, unaware of the sensitivity of the situation, reported promptly, “No anomalous communications or behaviour within EDI, Shepard-Commander.”

“So it’s true, then?”

Abigail turned tired eyes to Jacob.

“You let an unknown, _hostile_ AI loose on the ship.”

“She is not ‘loose’,” Abigail murmured. Immediately she knew that was wrong. The AI was as good as loose. Abigail rubbed her eyes as she moved between them, toward the armoury. “The Master Chief promised me that she wouldn’t attack.”

“Four hundred people are dead because of that AI, Shepard!” Jacob stormed after Abigail, with Miranda and Legion tailing behind.

“Jacob,” murmured the brunette.

“No, this is insanity.” Jacob grabbed Abigail’s arm, stopping her. “Don’t walk away from me.”

Abigail obediently stopped and turned, facing Jacob again.

The ex-Cerberus operative and the Commander had been tense for many months. He apparently did not appreciate her prying into his personal life, whereas she thought her persistence in wanting him to manage his parental disquiet was for the betterment of group cohesion. Jacob thought she started excluding him from missions because of a heated discussion, and refused to accept that Shepard was selecting her team based on her own needs, and the needs of the mission. Friction sparked between them every time they spoke. Both had tried to put whatever it was between them aside, but both had thus far failed. The situation was only worsened by Shepard’s refusal to allow Jacob to go through the thermal vent of the Collector Base. He felt that she doubted his ability and, in truth, she had. Legion, as an inorganic AI platform, was a far more logical choice for the mission. Again, she had passed Jacob over for Garrus as the secondary leader to hold the door, and then taken Jack and Miranda over him to destroy the hive. More marks against her.

Shepard lamented a potentially lost friendship, but in the end what was done was done. She had pushed too far, and she couldn’t undo that.

 “What do you want me to say, Taylor? Yes, I let it out. He gave me his assurance that the AI thought she was under attack when she disabled the _Athens_.”

“And you just let it out because of his reassurance?” Jacob was clearly incredulous.

Abigail closed her eyes and lowered her head as Jacob continued.

“We have no idea whether or not it can hack EDI. We don’t know it’s capabilities. It’s contained in something that can fit in an isolation box, for God’s sake. We don’t have anything near that technological capabilities.”

“Jacob.” Shepard tried to keep her voice even, her eyes still closed. They stood in the armoury, with Shepard having moved them from the hallway outside the conference room so that the two within would not hear their bickering. “Right now, the only information I have is that antagonising that AI would result in potential disaster. This way, we can at least stack the deck in our favour of placating it. If it has loyalty to the Master Chief, it might be our best shot of talking to it. Maybe even learning from it.”

“Goddamn it, Shepard. Your recklessness is getting out of control!”

Abigail opened her eyes. “If you didn’t want to trust my gut, Taylor, why are you _here_?”

The two of them stared one another down, neither willing to budge. The epitome of their relationship, now.

+ _Commander_.+

Shepard, glad for the reprieve, looked up. “EDI?”

+ _They are ready for you_.+

She looked at the other three. “Wait here.”

“Commander, perhaps one of us should come with you,” offered Miranda. The normally unflappable genetically perfect woman was hovering uncomfortably off to one side. She was still not quite sure how to handle situations where she couldn’t just tell people what to do, clearly. Moreover, she seemed to have accepted that Garrus was the second in command of the _Normandy_. Or at the very least the person Shepard would turn to first.

“I’ll call for you, Miranda,” Shepard promised. “For now, I think it would be a bad idea to overwhelm our new guests.”

“Can I ask why?”

Abigail glanced back at Miranda. “Something is very wrong with these guys, Miranda. I have an idea but I want to make sure before I go sounding… too crazy.”

“After everything we’ve done, _this_ is ‘too crazy’?”

Shepard looked at the door ahead of her. “Yeah.”

Jacob had one last parting comment for her. “One of these days, Shepard, you’re going to let the wrong person on this ship.”

Jacob’s dire words rang in Shepard’s head as she walked into the conference room. But they vanished as soon as she saw the small holographic woman standing on the table next to the one man walking army. For a moment Abigail just stared, unable to comprehend how _human_ the AI looked. Then she was struck by the fact that not only did the tiny chip under the blue form hold enough storage space for an AI, it also had holographic projection capabilities.

 _This is it. This is what’s gonna kill Mordin. He’s gonna have a fucking stroke_.

“Hello,” said the AI, clearly uncomfortable with the Commander’s stare. It shifted and glanced at the Chief.

 _Discomfort_. A human emotion. So was embarrassment, confusion, hell everything that the hologram just did.

Abigail took a deep, steadying breath. _Treat this like First Contact_. She immediately recalled the lessons from ICT that prepared her for the rank of N7. N7 Marines were one of the few ranks of the military who were qualified to conduct an impromptu first contact meeting. So were, incidentally, Spectres. First Contact Protocol necessitated not revealing to a potential hostile alien force the limitations of humanity, or whether or not their capabilities were inferior to, matched, or surpassed theirs. Not only because the alien race may perceive a weaker humanity as a potential conquest, but also because they might interpret a superior humanity as a threat.

Shepard laced her hands behind her back and squared her feet, looking between the two of them.

“I presume you have had a chance to catch up.”

The Chief, as predicted, remained silent, simply staring at the Commander. Now it was Cortana who did the talking. She got the feeling that that might be how their relationship worked.

“He told me everything he knew. He told me about the ship. I am so, so sorry, Commander. I thought we were under attack.”

Abigail fixed her gaze on the AI.

Immediately, it continued, “I couldn’t let the Master Chief fall into enemy hands. I thought the UNSC would come to retrieve us. If the aliens were civilians, they would only have to surrender. I didn’t think…” Cortana was quiet for a long time. Then, it simply admitted, “I didn’t think.”

An AI reacting illogically to a situation. Now it was expressing regret to the loss of life? Shepard compartmentalised that information. EDI, after all, lamented the loss of her crew to the Collectors, but she didn’t show such depth of emotion. She had explained to Shepard that she found the presence of the crew ‘preferable’ over their absence, and that the loss of the crew elicited a sense of failure within her, since she was meant to protect them. Guilt and loss, in AI speak, she supposed.

“But the Chief has filled me in on the situation and I have an idea,” Cortana said quickly, making Shepard refocus on her. “The Chief seems to think that we’re displaced into another galaxy. Albeit with similar evolutionary strands to our galaxy. It’s possible that what we call ‘Earth’ may be two very different planets. If you let me interface with your on-board AI, we can compare our own understanding of our respective galaxies and get to the bottom of this. Even if we just compare star charts.” Cortana glanced at the Chief, then looked back toward the Commander. “It would be the fastest way to be sure.”

The thought sat uneasily with the Commander. There were two conclusions to be drawn from Cortana’s physical storage device. Either she was vastly inferior to EDI, little more than a sophisticated VI similar to the one that assisted in regulating the Commander’s biotic energies from her implants. Or she was so vastly superior to EDI that she could easily take over the vessel and have at her disposal some of the most sensitive information in the war against the Reapers. Not to mention the lives of all those on board.

Shepard’s eyes flickered to the side, like she could see the now-empty post beside the CIC. She had already failed her crew once. Could she bear to fail again?

EDI’s holographic orb appeared on the table. “Commander.”

Abigail’s gaze jumped to EDI, and the AI took this as permission.

“I understand – and empathise with – your reluctance. Cortana is an entirely unknown variable that, in her first act that we know of, disabled a very powerful vessel that rendered it vulnerable to destruction. But the _Athens_ did not have an on-board AI. I have isolated all essential on-board systems from the wireless network. I have also created a back-up drive for myself, and assisted Legion in interfacing with a ship-wide diagnostic process. Should Cortana make a hostile move against me, you would have sufficient time to be informed and disable all AI control over the vessel through Legion. Then you can flash my drives.”

Cortana made a sound that interrupted EDI. “That would destroy you.”

“An acceptable loss, should the alternative be the loss of this ship to an AI.”

Cortana looked like she might say more, but simply remained silent after that.

EDI returned her focus to the Commander. “I agree that the two of us interfacing would be the most expedient way to figure out what has happened here, but I would never take undue risk, Commander.” A pause. “Well, beyond what you are used to.”

“Theories, EDI?”

“From what I have been able to observe, the Master Chief and Cortana share an entirely consistent story. I have been able to draw three conclusions. Firstly, they are both artificial entities programmed with a false understanding of reality, second, that they are lying to us, and third, that they are telling the truth. Each scenario comes with its risks, as you can understand. However, if they are telling the truth, then they are indeed not from this galaxy, if only from the historical events they are speaking of. They cannot be displaced by time. None of their events have occurred in our past, and their present is not influenced by our actions here. This has significant ramifications for our understanding of spatial travel.”

Shepard had two more potential scenarios, but if they had not occurred to EDI, she did not want to give voice to them here. She had evidence against both, logical arguments against both, but the quiet fear would not go away.

“You were listening to us.” The notion clearly angered the AI.

EDI did not respond for a moment, perhaps as startled by the emotional response as Shepard was. Well, as startled as EDI got.

“I am interfaced with the ship-wide sensors,” EDI finally replied. “You did not request privacy, and for the protection of my crew I believed it would be best for me to observe your interactions. I apologise if I have offended, but the safety of my crew takes priority over your comfort.”

“You did good, EDI.”

“Thank you, Commander. I will await your decision.” The orb disappeared.

“The _Athens_ didn’t have an on-board AI.” The AI appeared to feel this was a defence. “If it had, I would have been able to talk to it. I would have known more!”

“Would you?” Abigail stared at her. “Or would you have just perceived it as an obstacle and destroyed it?”

The AI reared back. If it were human, Abigail would have thought it was deeply offended.

“The Chief told me you came from an over a quarter-of-a-century-long war.” Shepard gestured at the Master Chief, who still had yet to say anything. “That changes things. Changes the way people react to one another. To situations. In war, you have a split second to decide if you want the diplomatic route or the violent way out. The wrong choice could get people killed. You already thought you were being attacked. Would you have really stopped to chat to an AI?” Realising her words might be harsh, Abigail closed her eyes and strived for calm. She understood. She truly did. But this AI had killed _four hundred_ civilians. Something that always upset Abigail.

“I’m so-”

“Sorry is just a word.” Shepard stared at Cortana. “What’s done is done. They’re dead. I’ll figure out what to do with that.” Clearly Shepard had failed for calm. Working her jaw, Abigail finally said, “EDI, send Legion to the CIC and tell him to monitor your conversation.”

“Yes, Commander.” A few seconds passed. “It is done. He will inform Joker the moment anything anomalous occurs and Joker will flush my drives.”

“Christ, no, not Joker. Put Miranda on it.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Nodding, Abigail turned to face Cortana. “Alright, Cortana. Interface with EDI. And while you’re at it, EDI, please offer Cortana a means to translate the various languages. I doubt the Chief would appreciate a translator chip being inserted in his head now, but we’ll find a way around it.”

“Yes, Commander. I promise that if Cortana and I decide to mount a hostile takeover of all organics, I will spare you.”

The silence was awkward.

“That was a joke.”

Shepard expelled a long breath and smiled. Then she looked at Cortana.

“I can work with what she gives me.” Cortana was no longer looking at the Commander. Instead she was staring off to one side. Sulking? Shepard couldn’t find it in herself to care. She had a manifest of four hundred people waiting in her terminal. Four hundred families that those people weren’t coming home to.

Four hundred lives she had to weigh against Cortana and the Master Chief.

“Alright. Do it.”

**_.-~*~-._**

John’s emotions tugged him in two directions. On one hand the way she had spoken to and treated Cortana angered him, but that anger was tempered by how deeply he empathised with her. He couldn’t help but put himself in her shoes. If he was in the same position, if an unknown AI had killed hundreds of human civilians, would he have trusted it? Or would he have simply destroyed it?

It was in times like this that John was glad his rank was only Master Chief. He had had to make some damn hard decisions in his time, but usually the only lives at risk were those of his fellow Spartans or other soldiers, who were all prepared to die for their cause. Taking care of civilians was always a task he found daunting. Civilians were skittish, undisciplined, and confusing. They enjoyed bizarre customs and practices. They had a distinct herd mentality. Their idea of ‘recreation’ varied between tedious and wastes of time. Some of them were simply downright nonsensical. But he would fight to the death to protect those civilians.

Shepard, he already knew, was exactly the same.

All too often he had seen cities, even whole planets, laid to waste by the Covenant. But they were an enemy force. It was easy for him to simply place those deaths at his back, to use them as motivation, as he slaughtered aliens in order to ensure it never happened again.

But _Cortana_ being the hostile force, being a part of the aggressor, was not what the Chief was used to. Not what he was trained for. He had no orders. He had no cause. No military behind him. If he had been ordered to kill the crew of the _Athens_ , he would have, trusting that the orders had reason behind them. But Cortana had attacked an apparently non-hostile civilian force unprovoked, and her actions had resulted in their deaths.

What would Shepard do with this information?

What would _he_ do?

Movement from the Commander drew his attention to her. She had shifted her weight, relaxed her shoulders and her stance, her attention focused on the table where EDI and Cortana had once projected their holographic selves. Now the two of them had disappeared, apparently focusing their attention to communicating with one another.

Once again he noted that she looked exhausted, and that exhaustion extended soul-deep. She was a woman who carried an unimaginable weight on her shoulders. She looked like she didn’t just need to sleep, she needed to rest. Properly. For days. Weeks, perhaps.

The Chief wondered what that felt like. To need rest. He didn’t understand anything beyond combat. He was frozen between deployment. Twenty-eight years of constantly fighting the covenant. Over half his life. The twenty before that was training for as long as he could remember.

Who had Abigail Shepard been, before she was a soldier? Did this universe have anything like ONI? Like Project ORION? The questions were valid in terms of reconnaissance, he told himself. Did he have any true competition in a one-on-one context? Did the energy that Shepard commanded turn her into an opponent equivalent to a Spartan II?

But more than that, he found himself wondering exactly who this Commander Abigail Shepard was to be as important as she had become. Why was she aboard and commanding a vessel that appeared staffed by little more than a ragtag band of mercenaries? How was she able to so resolutely declare that she existed in the service of humanity when the mercenary aboard the _Athens_ had so viciously denounced her?

Was he really in the custody of the preferential force?

What would the catches be?

“You need to go to the infirmary.” Shepard looked at the Chief, the motion and the words so abrupt that he was startled.

Of course he offered no physiological response, but he was surprised nonetheless. Nothing had passed on the Commander’s face to show a change of subject. Was she already considering this? How many thoughts were swirling behind those grey-green eyes?

She must have accepted his silence as an answer, because she turned to face him properly. He expected her to lace her hands behind her back. To face him as an officer as she did when she came in to the room. But now she just rested her hand on the table and squinted up at him.

“You’re favouring your right side over your left. I know you’re ambidextrous, so that only makes sense if your left side has occurred some injury. Your steps are half a second faster on your right side as well, making me believe that your left ankle or foot has sustained some injury. Not to mention you have a giant melted hole in your chestplate.” She nodded toward his sternum, looking amused.

The Chief glanced down at the impact site of Guilty Spark, touching the melted edges of his armour.

“Also, no offence, Chief, but you look like hell. Surely you would like to get out of that armour.”

The change in Shepard was startling. Could the austere persona she put across have been entirely for Cortana’s benefit? She spoke with familiarity with him now. Or was it truly exhaustion?

“Commander.”

Shepard straightened immediately, that familiarity disappearing so smoothly it was like it didn’t exist. Cortana and EDI reappeared on the table.

Cortana immediately turned to the Chief, eyes wide. “ _Chief_.”

At the same time EDI said, “Commander. It is true.”

“ _What’s_ true? That they’re from a different reality? Or a different time?”

“Both.”

Shepard scowled. “ _What_?”

EDI immediately responded. “Commander. Their humanity was forced to develop their own form of faster-than-light travel when they did not locate a cache of alien technology on Mars. This faster-than-light-travel is, after a preliminary examination, entirely feasible. However, they developed their engine in the year 2291.”

The Commander stepped back, eyes widening. Then she looked sharply at the Chief. “EDI. Are you _sure_ about this?”

“Yes, Commander. It appears that not only are they from a different reality, they are _also_ from a different time.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded the Chief.

“Chief.” Cortana’s quiet voice drew his focus and he stared down at her wide, wide eyes. “On Earth, it is the year 2185.”

**_.-~*~-._**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look guys I did it! Another chapter in less than six months ha ha!
> 
> Cortana is revealed in this chapter, and the first part is from her perspective. I hope that it doesn't disappoint.
> 
> I start a new job next week, full time, but it will probably motivate me to do more fanfiction work to escape the monotony of work life!
> 
> As always, please leave any feedback and point out any errors if you can. They do truly help.
> 
> Love
> 
> Anne


	9. Dissonance

**Chapter 9**

_Dissonance_

**_.-~*~-._**

“And we’re just _believing_ this?”

“Are you saying that EDI is wrong, Jacob?”

“I’m saying maybe the AI took over EDI and now we’re not talking to EDI anymore, Miranda.”

“We did not detect any anomalous behaviour within EDI, Operative-Jacob.”

“Well maybe you just missed it.”

There was a little man beating against Abigail’s left temple, desperate to break through her skull and get out. Not that she could blame him. This had become quite the clusterfuck in a few short minutes. As she was, Abigail had one hand over her eyes, trying to shield herself from the glaring light of the room, as Jacob and Miranda continued to debate the possibilities of inter-universal travel across the table.

Shepard and Garrus occupied one back corner of the room, with the Master Chief and Cortana in the other back corner. Miranda and Jacob stood closer to the door, arguing across the table. In the months since he had rejoined her crew, Garrus had come to his role quite effectively as her second in command. Not only did he have the respect of every single person on board, he also had Shepard’s best interests in mind. The moment Shepard had called for the others to come in, Garrus was at the fore, the turian’s expression positively thunderous. Clearly he had already been talking to Jacob. Rather than condemn Shepard, however, he merely wanted to know what the hell was going on that was so important she hadn’t gone for a checkup yet.

As it stood now, Jacob was firmly in the ‘not possible’ camp with a heavy dose of ‘how can you even believe this?’ Miranda deferred to Shepard’s opinion, one that Garrus also supported. Legion, as usual, didn’t really have an opinion on the matter.

EDI’s orb spoke from the end of the table. “Jacob, I assure you that Cortana and I approached this from every possible angle. The history she has is so comprehensive that the notion of it being fabricated is so unlikely I would classify it as impossible. For someone to be able to falsify decades of human development is an unfeasibly large task.”

Jacob stared at EDI. “I was out there, EDI. You didn’t have that long. You’re telling me you compared the entire history of humanity in a few seconds?”

“Two humanities in fifty-seven point three-nine seconds. There is a congruent line of development, but somewhere in the early part of the twenty-first century, their humanity diverged from yours. For example, Cortana reports that the colony on mars was settled in the year 2080.”

“And we didn’t colonise until 2103,” added Miranda.

“Correct. However, their humanity did _not_ discover an ancient archive of alien technology on Mars, and whilst _your_ humanity leaped forward due to the discovery of the Mass Relay technology, their humanity was forced to develop their own form of interstellar faster-than-light travel.”

Jacob threw up his hands. “Is this even _possible_? Travelling between dimensions?”

“Completely, although your use of the word ‘dimension’ is somewhat erroneous in the context in which we now speak. A ‘dimension’ would be attached to our perceptual reality, but not a part of it. Popular theory conceptualises that there are a set number of dimensions for any reality. Like layers. Penetrating into other dimensions is merely a matter of technological capacity. What you are referring to is a ‘reality’, where their ‘world’ is of an entirely separate sphere. The comparison would be that dimensions are the layers of a planet, each layer being harder and harder for humans to gain access to, or even perceive, whereas a reality would be an entirely different planet, in an entirely different stellar system.”

Miranda spoke next. “And there could be another humanity there, another Earth, another… everything?”

“Indeed. In fact, parallel species is the most likely situation. The fact that there are no parallel asari, turians, or salarians is the _less_ likely part of the scenario.”

“Right now, we have a more pressing issue than advanced physics,” Shepard murmured, looking down at Cortana. “What do we do with you now?”

At that, the Master Chief stood straighter, his muscles rippling beneath his black bodysuit. It was a subtle shift in stance, one that might be mistaken for him simply shifting position. But Shepard knew immediately what it was – he was going to protect Cortana at any cost.

 _What is this AI to you_? Her eyes jumped to his visor. She understood the very great risk she had taken releasing Cortana on the ship, but for some reason she just knew that to earn the Chief’s trust, she had to give him some first.

Question was, would this exchange in trust be equal? What did she stand to gain from his trust? What did he stand to lose without hers.

She rubbed her temples. She did not need this right now.

“What do you mean, what do you do with us?” asked Cortana, her voice tight. Angry, perhaps. “Maybe someone could explain the situation we’re in. Not just the dimensional travel. Right here, in this room.”

“Complicated,” Shepard murmured. “The situation is very, very complicated.”

“I think I will be able to understand, if you tell me.” Cortana seemed perturbed by the idea that she might not be able to understand what’s going on. Shepard, more precisely, couldn’t be bothered reciting the same old insanity for yet another crew member.

“There are numerous factions to which Shepard owes varying degrees of loyalty,” explained Miranda, her voice surprisingly gentle. “And that’s just one part of a very tangled web in which Shepard finds herself. The Systems Alliance Navy is the military to which she belongs, although technically she is a freelance agent. Regs are somewhat bent for her. Then there’s the Council, not only because she’s a member of a Council race, but because she is a Council Spectre. _However_ , there remains a large degree of oversight that she is afforded because of that rank. As the first human Council Spectre, even the Systems Alliance offers her a lot of leeway in terms of her actions.”

“What is a Spectre? What is the significance of that rank?”

“Shouldn’t she know this?” asked Jacob. “After talking with EDI?”

It was EDI that responded. “Out of respect to the Commander’s trust, Jacob, Cortana and I _only_ compared Earth’s history in a sort of condensed information package for us to comb through simultaneously. What happened beyond the creation of what they call the Translight Engine and our development of Mass Effect technology has not been divulged.”

 _Christ if we’re here explaining everything to Cortana, we’ll be here for months_.

 “EDI.”

“Commander.”

“Once we’re done here, interface with Cortana again and you can start telling her about our universe. About the Spectres. About… whatever she needs to know, okay?”

“For _fuck’s sake_ , Shepard.”

Abigail turned exhausted eyes to Jacob. “Now what.”

“We don’t know _anything_ about these two.” Jacob’s voice was low and urgent. “Insanity aside, we don’t know who they are, their loyalties, their abilities, their possible motivations. It hasn’t escaped my notice that you haven’t asked them a single damn question. We don’t even know this guy’s _name_. Now you just want to hand up all the information that AI could want?”

“Taylor.” EDI, if possible, sounded offended. “I would only offer up the information that any crew member would know. Not sensitive personal details.”

Jacob continued to face Shepard. “We don’t even know if EDI is still EDI!”

“If Cortana had control of EDI, you think she’d be sitting on a table asking us a bunch of questions, Jacob?” Shepard realised her voice sounded as exhausted as she felt.

“Look. For the time being, we just trust EDI.”

Everyone turned toward Garrus, who was standing squarely beside Shepard, his arms folded over his chest.

The turian continued, “EDI swears by what she found when talking to Cortana, and we’re gonna stick to that. Right now, we don’t really have a way to prove otherwise.”

Jacob was unimpressed. “Vakarian, you can’t be serious.”

“Excuse me.”

Shepard glanced toward Cortana as Jacob and Garrus turned on one another.

“Taylor, just let it go. This isn’t the time or the place.”

“This is _exactly_ the time and the place. We’ve let how many dangerous people on this ship?”

“And they worked out mostly fine.”

“I thought these debriefings were for us to have a say on what’s going on. Not just to tell us to obey Shepard’s decisions.”

“This is _Shepard’s_ ship, Taylor. If you don’t like it, step off.”

“You know, for once, maybe you should take a step back and look at what Shepard’s doing rather than just blindly following her.”

“I’m not _blindly_ doing anything.”

“Excuse me!”

“Enough.”

Cortana and Shepard spoke in unison and the room fell silent.

Shepard held up a finger. “First, what Garrus said is true, we don’t have a way, yet, to prove whether or not Cortana and the Master Chief are being truthful. At this point in time, we’re gonna have to go with it. Second, Cortana is trying to say something.”

When everyone focused on the small holographic woman, she stood straighter, chin up. “The Master Chief can’t understand what Garrus is saying. I think it only fair that he integrates me into his suit so I can upload the translation into his neural interface.”

“You have already written a translation program?” asked Miranda.

“I wrote it as soon as EDI afforded me the languages,” replied Cortana curtly.

Shepard waved her free hand. “Go for it.”

Cortana looked up at the Master Chief. “Alright.”

His massive green arm reached to the table and scooped her chip up. Then his hand extended behind his head and inserted her into the base of his helmet.

“Okay,” murmured Garrus. “That was unexpected.”

Miranda folded her arms. “Fascinating.”

The Chief slowly lowered his hand from the back of his helmet, turning to face Shepard, who was now staring openly at him. Her gut clenched at the implications of this man loading an artificial superintelligence into his cranium. Were they one and the same now?

“Back up.” Jacob pointed. “Are we sure this guy is actually human? Are we sure that this guy isn’t actually an AI himself?”

 _Not anymore_.

“I’m not in his _head_ ,” snapped Cortana’s voice from the Chief’s helmet. “I am in his _helmet_. His neural interface is in the base of his skull. This is an optimal means for us to work together in a combat situation. I’m in his armour, not his brain.” A pause. “He can understand you now, Garrus.”

Garrus spread his hands and shook his head. “I’m good.”

“He just put an AI in his head,” Jacob reiterated, turning to Shepard. “Into his _head_.”

Shepard tried to dismiss the unpleasant tingling along her limbs. Adrenaline? Fear? Both. “Jacob, _I_ have a VI in my head. So do you. So does half the damn crew on this ship.”

“ _That_ is a small artificial program designed to regulate biotics because we don’t have any evolved functions to do that for us. _He_ just put a hyperadvanced AI into his skull.”

“I am not _in_ his head.”

“You could be lying! Everything she said could be a lie!” Jacob faced Shepard squarely. “Please, listen to what I am saying here. This is _insanity_. And I don’t mean going through the Omega 4 relay and coming out alive. That’s just plain stupidity. But this, this right here defies logic, Shepard.”

Shepard’s lips pursed. There was the possibility of that. Nor could she deny the possibility that the Master Chief wasn’t human at all. Could he have been faking his injuries to appear more human? Could that explain how minor they appeared? Abigail looked at him with narrowed eyes. One way to definitely be sure of that.

 “Regardless of whether or not you’re in his head or his suit, you are an AI that is able to integrate with a combat supportive system that a single soldier can take into battle.” Miranda stroked her chin a she considered the implications, then looked pointedly at Shepard. “This, combined with the potential capacity to travel between dimensions…”

_Is very dangerous technology._

“Alright, look.” Abigail spread her arms, standing at the table finally. “I think we can all agree that this is probably the most bizarre situation any of us has encountered, and I think you’ll understand that I’m still trying to figure out how the fuck to handle it. But for now, we have two pressing issues. One.” She stabbed her finger into the table. “For now we have two new crew members to take care of. Whether or not you stay.” She looked at the Master Chief. “That’s for you to decide. For now, you are crew members and we will make you comfortable.”

Jacob’s mouth opened. Shepard threw up a hand.

“Second. Cortana, you are clearly far more advanced than anything we currently have. Not only because you are the most advanced form of AI we’ve ever met, but also because you potentially carry one half of the needed schematics to cross into other goddamn fucking dimensions. Universes. Whatever! So, for now, I am going to have to _insist_ that you stay on board this ship. I promise I will respect your privacy, and respect your needs. But I need to keep you in my sight for a little bit.”

“Why?” asked Cortana.

Abigail sighed. “Look. Aside from the fact that there are some very not good people out there that cannot get a hold of you, we’re also in a very tricky position where an enemy is going to take advantage of the technological leaps we’ve made due to discovering Mass Effect technology. Right now the pressing matter is that _no one_ can get a hold of you. Either of you. Not the Council. Not the Systems Alliance. And certainly not many other people that would abuse the power that your technology would give them.”

Cortana’s voice carried deep concern as it emerged from the Chief’s helmet. “You wouldn’t even trust your own military with us?”

Abigail turned to face at them squarely. “Don’t mistake my intention, Cortana. I am deeply loyal to my race, and to the Council. But the fact remains that they don’t work in their best intentions sometimes, and we’re currently fighting an uphill war. I don’t want to add to that.”

“Shepard.”

She looked over at Jacob.

“This could be the advantage we need.” Clearly he was speaking in a way that he hoped would not be interpreted negatively by either the Master Chief or Cortana. “If it’s so advanced, and so different to the Reapers, then maybe-”

“No.”

The single word rang out so finitely that the room fell eerily silent.

Knowing that Jacob would simply interpret her refusal as a rejection of his offer, Abigail continued. “This technology is so advanced, Jacob, there is _no one_ I trust with it. Not even myself. As such.” She turned to look at the Master Chief and Cortana once more. “I will not enter into a technological share agreement for the time being. You two will remain members of this crew until either we figure out a way to send you home…” She paused. “Or the Reapers come.”

“Reapers.”

For the first time since everyone had entered the room, it was the Chief that spoke. Compared to Cortana’s light but authorative tones, his deep rumble was like some stormy force rolling through the air. So different to anything Shepard had ever heard. Somewhere between Wrex and… Anderson. Old and experienced. Tired. But still ready to fight to the bitter end.

“I promise I’ll explain more soon, Master Chief. It’s a lot to take in. Trust me.” Shepard looked at EDI. “For now…”

“Commander?”

“Expunge all data of the Master Chief and Cortana from the records of the Athens, EDI. As well as the ship they found.”

“ _Shepard_!”

Everyone turned to Jacob at his explosive outburst.

“Shepard, there are people on that ship that deserve _justice_. You can’t just bury what happened to them! They died, and their families deserve to know why and what for! That AI disabled them. Could have called those mercs! We need to investigate this.”

“And I _will_. As soon as I can.”

Shepard did _not_ want to have this discussion in front of the others, and she scrambled for a way to broach the subject delicately with Jacob without revealing too much. But Jacob took that from her as he walked around the table and stabbed a finger into her chest.

“You can’t just make decisions on what’s good for them, Shepard. They deserve better.”

A biotic wave flowed over Shepard’s arms. The only indication of how close her temper came to sparking. Jacob took a reactive step back as she stared at him, entirely unmoving.

“They’re dead, Jacob. My duty is first and foremost to the living.”

“And what about their living families?”

“They were on a deep-space exploratory vessel, Jacob. There’s a very real chance they’d simply disappear and never be heard from again. Their families would be very, very aware of this. As are you.”

Jacob’s jaw worked.

“If you have a problem with my decision, Taylor, you are free to bring it up with me in private. _Later_.”

His nostrils flared, then he spun on his heel and walked out of the room. Thankfully, no one followed him. Miranda looked vaguely annoyed and concerned. Garrus just looked like a pissed off, scarred turian. Legion merely cocked his head, plates flaring.

The Chief, when Shepard glanced at him, was an ever-implacable armoured mountain.

“As far as anyone will know,” Shepard continued, “the _Athens_ was intercepted during deep-space exploration on the frontier by an unknown hostile _human_ force. The Systems Alliance will have to deal with some political fallout from the alien races involved, but it’s better than the two of you being hunted.”

“Hunted.”

Abigail looked at the Chief, at the visor, at the eyes she knew were behind it.

“I accept that wherever you’re from, Chief, AI’s are an accepted part of military conduct. Here, they are not. I almost destroyed EDI myself when I first met her, because of my overwhelmingly negative experience with AI’s. Prior to EDI, every single AI I had met had tried to kill me. It’s not common practice here to develop artificial intelligence. In fact, it’s illegal except for some very highly regulated companies in fringe development.” Shepard looked at Cortana. “If the wrong people got you, they would destroy you. Or worse, they would try to use you to advance their own AI development. The latter, I cannot allow to happen. For any race.” The last she added quietly. “And the former, Cortana, I would rather not happen.”

Abigail looked back between the two of them. “For now, you have my assurance that you will both be safe aboard my vessel and under my command as long as you cooperate.”

“How can you give us that promise?” Cortana’s words were understandably biting. “Who are you? You’re a Commander.”

“She’s the first human Spectre.” Garrus still sounded like a proud older brother whenever he said that about Shepard.

Shepard smiled. Or did she grimace? The rank felt hollow and yet heavy at the same time.

“I hope you know that means nothing to us,” groused Cortana.

Garrus lifted his chin as he spoke. “The most esteemed military operative position in the Council. Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. Black ops with full freedom of oversight. The Council is the ruling body of the races that call Citadel Space home. The most recent race to be included was humanity, due mostly to Shepard herself. Shepard, as a Council Spectre, can basically do whatever she wants as long as it works in the interests of the Council races.”

It wasn’t boasting. Shepard was a major political power and civilian icon. To some she was a hero. To others she was a species-traitor. Regardless, she had the power to come back from the dead and walk into a Councilman’s chamber without any more than a cursory security check.

“And she’s a good person, Cortana. She keeps her word.”

Shepard felt three inches tall with Garrus’ accolades. Undeserving. She couldn’t even keep half her own crew safe from the Collectors. Clearing her throat, she took over. “And I have friends.” Between Anderson and Liara, Shepard would be able to keep them safe. “But I can only protect you as long as you cooperate.” She didn’t want to make threats, but she needed to make her stance clear. “My priority, even over the safety of this ship and her crew, is the safety of the people of Earth and her colonies, and of the races of Citadel space. Everyone’s life on board this ship is secondary. I hope you understand.”

The Chief nodded. His response was immediate. She eyed him, trying to keep her thoughts internal.

_How much have you lost in the service of your military? Your own name?_

“And I have one way to solve whether or not the Master Chief is human or not,” interjected Garrus, slapping Shepard on the back. “Time for your physical.”

Shepard glared at him, then sighed. “You’re right. We-”

“No.”

Abigail’s eyebrows shot upwards. A stillness fell over the room. Everyone slowly turned to look at the Master Chief. His single, clipped syllable had been as resolute as Shepard’s.

Shepard propped her hip up on the table, exhaling slowly. Everything had gone too smoothly. Would this be the resistance finally?

“Legion.” Miranda touched Legion’s arm. “Can you give us the room?”

“We do not possess the ro-”

“Get out, Legion.”

There was a pause. “Yes, Shepard-Commander.” The door opened behind Shepard, then hissed closed again.

“How about we _all_ give you the room,” murmured Garrus, gesturing toward Miranda. The door opened and closed a second time.

Silence consumed the room as the Chief and the Commander stared at one another. Cortana remained tacitly quiet as well.

“Why?” Shepard finally broached.

“Commander.” It was Cortana that made the attempt. “The Chief is well versed in taking care of his own injuries. Perhaps if he was given some private space-”

“Chakwas would have my _throat_ if I let someone tend to their own injuries. More importantly, _everyone_ that comes on board this ship has a full physical to start a file. We tend to get hurt. A lot.”

The Chief shifted slightly. Barely perceptibly. A movement of his weight from one foot to the other. Restlessness? Was he thinking?

 “Commander. Surely you can’t expect to _force_ him to comply.” Cortana sounded deeply offended by the suggestion.

“I asked only for your cooperation, Master Chief. This would be an instance of cooperation.”

He remained silent.

Clearly this would take more diplomacy than brute force. She could simply order him to do it, but she doubted he would comply. No, she needed to convince him. To do that, though, she needed to know what his reluctance was.

The man was an enigma wrapped in enigmas.

_Peel back the layers._

“You said that you finished a war with this ‘Covenant’,” Shepard ventured. “Is that a reason for your concern? If so, Chakwas is a human, and I’ll make sure Mordin is clear from the infirmary for your comfort.” Just in case, Shepard elaborated, “Mordin’s an alien.”

Shepard’s keen ear picked up Cortana’s voice, very muffled. She narrowed her eyes as she saw the Chief’s throat work, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down. They were talking inside the helmet. She bit her cheek to keep from ordering him to take it off. As much as she disliked it, she knew that pushing now would be a mistake.

“The Master Chief,” Cortana said carefully, “is concerned that his body and his armour are not only the property of the UNSC, but also highly classified.”

“UNSC,” repeated the Commander. “That was printed on your ship. I assume that’s your military?”

“United Nations Space Command,” Cortana elaborated.

No further explanation necessary. Just another way of saying ‘Systems Alliance’, Shepard surmised. “And you’re telling me that your body is… property of this military?”

The Chief didn’t nod. He knew he didn’t need to, clearly. Shepard was just spelling everything out plainly for the two of them. No misinterpretations.

 _Your body. Your body belongs to the military_.

 _Supersoldier_.

There was no other possible explanation that Shepard could think of for a man’s body, perhaps his whole identity, to be considered not only property of a military force, but also _classified_. He was a supersoldier. Augmented. Created. Perhaps a combination of both.

It explained his height. His capabilities. His rigid nature. His reluctance to speak. It explained everything about this man’s behaviour. But it shrouded _who_ he was in even more mystery.

 _Do you even know who you are_?

Shepard knew the trauma her own body had gone through to become augmented. She had _died_. Burned up in atmospheric re-entry. Come back as ‘meat and tubes’ to quote Jacob. She knew from Liara that she had been missing limbs, her body was a wreck, barely distinguishable from overcooked vat-grown meat patties with bones. Vaguely in the shape of a bipedal creature.

What had happened to this man?

 _What did they do to you_?

Why _did they do it_?

“I still don’t see what the problem is.”

The Chief’s head cocked ever so slightly. A hair’s breadth of a cant to the left.

“The UNSC doesn’t exist here. You have nothing to protect.”

 Harsh. True. Shepard didn’t let her gaze falter from her reflection in the golden visor. Her own stalwart stare fixated on herself. Her unimpressed expression. Cold, some might say.

 _Frustrated_.

“Commander. That doesn’t change that he-”

“It changes everything, Cortana. If what you and EDI have concluded is true, there is absolutely no way that anything I find out about the Master Chief or whatever supersoldier program he is a part of could impact on your UNSC.”

The room’s silence became heavy. Thick. Hostility lingered at the edges of the conversation. But was from the Chief or Cortana that it originated?

Was it both?

“Master Chief.” Shepard pushed off the table and stared up at him. One hand propped up on her hip, the other hanging at her side. She wanted to portray herself as disinterested in his secrets as she could, but also as frustrated as she was.

“I appreciate that where you come from, in this war, there is no doubt an information chokehold. The more you know, the less your enemies know, the stronger your position. I daresay that if you are a numerical minority there would also be a degree of psychological warfare. Humans that possess capabilities beyond the average human would confuse an alien coalition. I appreciate that, believe me. But the war is not happening here. The UNSC does not exist. What you _are_ is absolutely irrelevant to me beyond the fact that you are _injured_. Beyond that, I don’t even care except that you are on my ship. Let me say that again. _My ship_. The Systems Alliance has no authority here. The Council has no authority here. I do. This is _my vessel_. Now either you can cooperate with me, with what I would consider some very reasonable requirements that are primarily aimed to ensure _your_ health. Or you can tell me where you’d like me to drop you off, and I wish you the very best luck with your life after that, because if you think a physical is bad good luck in the Terminus System.”

The two of them stared at one another for a long time. Minutes ticked past. Shepard had said her piece. Now it was time for the Master Chief to make up his mind about what he wanted to do.

Finally, he nodded. Once.

**_.-~*~-._**

_You have nothing to protect here_.

A single sentence sent the Chief’s world into anarchy.

 _You have nothing to protect here_.

As he descended in the elevator, he couldn’t even focus on the sheer amount of information that had been made available to him during the course of the debriefing. He had spent the entire meeting analysing and compartmentalising all of the information he had been given. Already he knew much of the crew to whom he had been exposed. Trained to root out insurrectionists, the Spartans were all well versed in reading other people, in discovering their motives by simply watching their behaviour. When traitors wore the faces of everyday people, a single tell could be the difference between finding them and letting them slip away forever.

The Chief was very good at reading people.

But now… now all he could think about was the woman in front of him.

She already knew he was a supersoldier. He had given her such little information, but she had not only guessed that he was a designed warrior, but also that he was a minority, a weapon against the enemy both physically and psychologically. She had gleaned so much in such a small amount of time that people never even guessed in their entire lives of serving.

How many soldiers thought that Spartans were just a super training program? How many people thought Spartans were handpicked because of physical attributes or performance?

But Shepard had already guessed so close to the truth, even when he had deliberately tried to divulge so little.

Or perhaps his reluctance to discuss himself had given her all the information she needed.

 _What kind of a woman is this_?

 _Who are you_?

“Chief. What are we going to do?”

John blinked in his HUD to close all external voice comms, ensuring that his next words would be for Cortana’s digital ears only.

“About what?”

“Our situation? This? Are we actually believing what’s going on here?”

“What alternatives do we have?”

 “I don’t know. A complex virtual reality that we’re both stuck in? A… I don’t know! But are we really just believing we screwed the pooch into a whole other universe?” Her voice became a hushed whisper. “Besides, she knows you’re a supersoldier. Chief, what if this ‘physical’ is just an attempt to find out how to make Spartans?”

A prospect he had considered when he had rejected her initial suggestion. But he already knew that the Commander would not budge on this matter. She was friendly with her crew, with an easy familiarity designed to make them feel comfortable. But behind that camaraderie was a woman born to lead. She knew the hard edges she needed to have to get done what needed to be done.

 _Do not underestimate her_. He made extra note of that. Not only was Shepard incredibly hard to read, but every time he thought he had a grasp of her she showed him a new facet of herself.

Could he believe this world was real? This universe? Could he truly believe that what was happening to him was actually happening?

The elevator doors opened and the Commander stepped out, immediately turning to her left. The Chief fell in behind her, taking in the rudimentary repairs that were being done around him. Panels missing. Shattered flooring. This ship had recently gone through a very tough time.

“For now, we just go with it, Cortana.”

“You’re serious. This ship is controlled by an AI, Chief. I could take her. I could have this ship under our control in less time than-”

“No.”

Cortana sounded offended by his rejection. “ _Chief_. I can do this.”

He didn’t doubt Cortana’s abilities at all, even if he did doubt her stability, especially after the torture the Gravemind put her through. No. His reason for stopping her was that, somehow, he knew that attacking would do more harm than good. The Commander had honoured every single promise she had made to him thus far. She had also been up front with him about everything. From her doubts about her own military, to her own rank, to what she could do for him.

The Chief came from a world of secrecy and subterfuge. A world where his very existence was beyond classified. But Shepard had flat out told him she didn’t trust her own military with Cortana. With him.

Again, another facet to an intensely complex woman. A woman he was beginning to realise did not run a band of ragtag mercenaries. No. She wouldn’t let that happen. She ran a tight crew of people with specific skills, the best of the best, he was betting. People – aliens – that all turned to her as their leader.

Shepard jolted to a stop sharply, drawing the Chief from his inner reverie. Before a set of closed doors stood a silver-haired woman, her arms folded over her chest, her unimpressed stare fixed directly on the Commander.

Behind the woman stood Garrus Vakarian. Clearly the alien was her 2IC by the way they acted to one another. Not only did he support her in the debriefing room, but he also spoke of her with sigh high praise that the Chief realised immediately the depth of respect that Shepard commanded from him.

He also did not fail to notice the way Shepard’s face clouded with shame with each accolade.

Now the turian was leaning against the wall, eating some kind of bizarre fruit that allowed him to peel away the exterior in strips and slide it down into his gullet. Clearly his digestive system was more avian than reptilian. For him to be able to swallow whole pieces of food, he would have to have some kind of gizzard or internal chewing function behind his mouth.

Shepard cleared her throat. “Karen Chakwas, this is the Master Chief. Master Chief, Chakwas.”

Karen Chakwas reminded the Chief of another silver-haired woman, but distantly. Especially when she turned her eyes to him and smiled gently. John pushed aside the awkward thoughts. He should not be likening this universe to his own. If, indeed, he had crossed some indecipherable barrier, it was ultimately imperative that he cross back as fast as possible.

“Lovely to meet you, Master Chief. Garrus has already informed me that we don’t know your name yet. That’s alright. If you’d please make your way into the infirmary, I will be right with you.”

Her eyes, turned to him, were gentle and pleasant. The kindly bedside manner of a woman who had nursed many soldiers back to health, haunted by the shadows of all those she had watched slip away. But when she looked at Shepard, the powerful Commander, the only human ‘Spectre’, turned into a chastened child.

“You have been on this ship for almost _two hours_ without coming to me for a medical assessment.”

Shepard spread her hands, taking a step back. “You were in surgery.”

“Mordin and the surgical VI’s were more than capable of handling Tali’s operation without me, and you know it.” She folded her arms over her chest. “What’s your next excuse?”

Shepard slowly lifted a finger to point at the Chief. “I had some pressing issues to discuss with our newest crew member, Chakwas. I promise it was really, really important.” Moments ago Commander Shepard was every inch the esteemed and decorated soldier that Garrus had described. Now she looked like a wet-behind-the-ears recruit whining about needing to do laps.

“More important than ensuring you’re not currently having a brain aneurysm from overtaxing your biotics, Commander?” snapped Chakwas. “I heard you passed out on coming through the airlock.”

Shepard visibly _squirmed_ before the Chief. “I was fine. No aneurysm symptoms.”

“Oh!” Chakwas’ silver eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Are you the resident medical officer now, Shepard?”

“No.” Shepard dropped her gaze.

“And are you the one who has put you back together from near death over thirty times?”

“No.” Shepard dropped her chin.

“And are _you_ the one who has almost killed herself on seven separate occasions due to overtaxing your new body?”

“Yes.” Each response was quieter than the last.

 _New body_?

“New body?” whispered Cortana inside the Chief’s helmet.

“Abigail Maria Shepard, I swear you are going to be the death of me. Get in the infirmary.”

Shepard discovered her courage at the last second. “The Master Chief has a hole in his armour!” She danced to the side to reveal the damage to the Chief.

Courage, it seemed, consisted of throwing the Chief to the wolves. The Chief prepared for the same lambasting as Chakwas stared at the damage to his armour. Then Chakwas simply rounded on the Commander anew.

“You let this man walk around on my ship for almost _two hours_ in this condition?!”

Shepard’s mouth worked as she clearly struggled for a new plan of action. She looked from the Chief to Chakwas, then repeated this action several times. Finally she looked at Garrus.

The turian threw up a hand. “Don’t look at me.”

Now the chirps and warbles of his language translated smoothly to English, the Chief could appreciate the complexity of what he was saying. So many things that simply did not translate fluidly across the languages. Even his name was almost a slurry of indecipherable syllables until the translation program filtered out something usable.

“Abigail, get in the damn infirmary.”

“Yes ma’am.” Shepard shuffled past the medical officer and through the two doors behind her.

Chakwas stepped aside, ushering the Chief through. As he passed, Garrus pushed off from the wall.

“I’ll be right out here, Chakwas. Yell if you need me.”

“Oh.” Chakwas patted the Chief’s arm as he passed. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, will it now?”

The Chief shook his head. “No ma’am.”

When they entered the infirmary they saw Shepard standing by the far wall, where a covered bed lay.

 _Tali’Zorah vas Normandy_? The injured alien?

“She’s stable, Shepard. She has minor infections from foreign material getting into her system, but nothing the chamber won’t fix. Now, if you don’t mind.” Chakwas turned toward the Master Chief as Shepard walked over to a console and apparently began to take her own blood samples. “How do we get you out of this?”

MJOLNIR was secured to a wearer by several anchoring locations that locked the different plates together, and adhered them firmly to the armoured bodysuit beneath. It allowed for the MJOLNIR’s vacuum seals, its ability to withstand extreme conditions, and the durability in combat that it was so famous for. The other side of the coin was that a SPARTAN-II wearing MJOLNIR mark V or VI armour required a full team of techs to get kitted up and, though removing it was easier, there were still those hard-to-reach areas that required some assistance.

It took a few more minutes of casting about the ship, but eventually they managed to scrounge up items that could be used to disengage the seals on the MJOLNIR Mark VI armour. Soon enough he simply stood with his arms out to either side as Chakwas – a surprisingly strong woman –worked at disengaging the back and front plates.

“They will be heavy,” he advised.

“That’s what I have the Commander for, since you declined the assistance of Grunt or Legion.” Despite the pleasantness of her words, the Chief felt strangely chagrined by her comment.

Shepard herself was busy with arranging the armour on some kind of anti-grav lift, ensuring that the pieces fit properly. Once Chakwas had cleared the Commander of lingering issues due to her ‘biotics’ – a name he assumed applied to her blue energy manipulation – Chakwas had then put the Commander to work. The Chief also watched the Commander out of the corner of his eye when she moved about him. Her injuries, mere hours old, were already pinkened scar tissue. Each injury, it seemed, faded between his glances. An accelerated healing? Something not even a Spartan had without external assistance. At least, nothing that fast.

 _New body_. The words floated into his mind once more.

What happened to her old one?

“I think we might be able to repair some of this.”

The Chief’s attention jumped to the Commander as she turned his vambrace over. “From the size and weight I’m guessing this is titanium. Readily accessible, even without my contacts. Mordin, Tali, and Legion would definitely be able to repair the internal wiring, and if you gave them specs…” Shepard trailed off as she looked up at the Chief, her eyes unerringly finding his behind the reflective visor, as they always did. As if sensing his reluctance, she merely nodded.

“I’ll let you think about that.” She put the vambrace down. “Bear in mind, though, we have no armour to cover you without custom ordering something to your size. So… that might take a while.”

John closed his eyes. His MJOLNIR armour was badly damaged and definitely in need of repairs. But the armour was beyond classified, just like his body. To have aliens look at it… to have _anyone_ look at it…

He looked at the Commander as she turned to face him.

“I would appreciate it,” he said at last.

To her credit, Shepard made no comment on his change of heart. She merely nodded.

“If you can hold his back plate. Master Chief, can you help me remove the front.” As the Commander went to obey Chakwas, John supported the chest plate as Chakwas disengaged the seals. “There we go.” The two halves of his thoracic plate came away and John caught the chest plate. Pain seared him as the jagged edges of the armour broke free of the biofoam seals. Blood began to flow again from his chest injury. Apparently Guilty Spark’s first attack had shorted the Chief’s shielding long enough for the second blow to crack his chest plate. On the outside it was not as noticeable, but something had ruptured inside; even the heat-resistant titanium and extra precaution of the diffusing armoured suit beneath had not been enough to withstand the blows from a Forerunner direct energy weapon.

It was not lost on Master Chief that, without Sgt. Johnson’s final act, he would have died during that battle. A combination of the biofoam and the gel layer had allowed for the Chief’s armour to stay hermatically sealed in zero space, the only thing that had saved his life during the decompression of the _Forward Unto Dawn_ and the impromptu spacewalk outside of the _Athens_. Otherwise the vacuum would have killed him, just like it would have killed Sam all those years ago.

Chakwas was instantly on it. “Commander. Take the chest piece.” With all the calm of a woman used to staring into people’s chest cavities, Chakwas began to apply a cool gel to the Chief’s chest injury. “This will stop the bleeding until I can begin surgery.”

John tensed. “Surgery.”

Chakwas cut him a stare. The first indication of her iron will. “If you think you don’t need surgery, Master Chief, you are very mistaken.”

The Master Chief then followed her gaze to the reinforced armoured bodysuit beneath the chest piece, and realised the damage done by Guilty Spark 343’s direct energy weapon. Shepard circled around from his back.

In cryostasis, the biofoam that had secured Master Chief’s various wounds had been as animatedly suspended as the Chief himself. Apparently for the time they had drifted in space, it had served its function as it remained locked in frozen slumber. But now that he had defrosted – and had been active for about four hours – it was beginning to lose its functionality. Even without the rupturing caused by the armour, it had reached the end of its longevity.

The pain had not truly been noticed by Master Chief; the numbing effect of the foam combined with his own personal threshold for discomfort meant that he had simply disregarded it without realising. Now the Chief was able to take stock of the full extent of the damage done to his body, a delayed reaction thanks to the biofoam injectors in his MJOLNIR Mark VI armour.

The thought of one of his few and closest friends had Master Chief closing his eyes, free hand clenching as the other set aside the chest plate. Not the time or the place.

“What other injuries is your equipment hiding?” asked Chakwas, apparently musing aloud.

It was Cortana that responded from inside the Chief’s helmet.

“He has a foreign object lodged next to his collar bone. It may be a fragment of his armour, but it is more likely an enemy projectile or shard of debris.” As she mentioned it, he felt the tenderness in the location, a dull pain that indicated something was wrong. “As well as deep-tissue damage in his left hand.” He glanced at his glove and flexed his fingers. Yes. They hurt in ways that indicated he had suffered trauma to the metacarpals of his little, ring and middle fingers, though he was not sure when he had received them. “More deep-tissue bruising to his left forearm, and several more foreign objects lodged within.” Likely the same source as the damage to his fingers. “He has minor bleeding around his liver, and his right lung is bruised.” Master Chief took a deep breath, concurring with Cortana’s assessment. “Extended wearing of his armour has caused numerous sites of irritation from the synthetic neural interface dermal suit.” A common occurrence during long campaigns and a minor nuisance; no matter how much care was taken, nothing would stop chafing when you spend days on end in your exceedingly heavy armour. “He has light lacerations across his body that require closing.”

But no broken bones, as was standard for a Spartan II.

“What the hell happened to you?” asked Shepard, although she did not appear to realise she had done so aloud.

“He,” said Cortana with no small amount of pride, “saved humanity.”

Both women stared up at Master Chief in silence, and he likewise returned their stares.

Then Chakwas closed her eyes. “Commander. I am extremely disappointed in you.”

“Yeah.” For once, Shepard did not appear phased by the castigation. Rather, her stare was contemplative, and the Chief could not decipher what it was she might be thinking.

“You had someone walking around on your ship with these kinds of injuries without telling me?”

Finally, Shepard clicked that she was being told off. “I didn’t know he was injured!” she objected, thrusting a hand out toward him. “I mean, I did. But not this badly! He kicked ass on the _Athens_! How was I meant to know he was so badly injured?”

“Abigail Maria Shepard.”

“Please stop doing that.”

Chakwas rounded on the Chief. “Surgery.”

The Chief balked internally, but remained silent.

“She is correct,” Cortana murmured. “You do require surgery. Though your body is able to withstand phenomenal damage, those foreign objects must be removed. And we need to find out the extent of that bleeding, and perhaps relieve the pressure that is no doubt building up in your abdominal cavity.”

At least he knew the foreign objects were nothing Flood-related. Cortana would have detected it. And he wasn’t spontaneously mutating. Moreover, he well knew that Spartans were fallible. They might be able to withstand far more than a normal human, but they still died.

A physical he had forced himself to accept. But surgery…?

But his body was property of ONI. He was confidential, classified to the highest degree. These people did not have the clearance to know anything about him.

It was Chakwas that solved the problem for him when she spoke with all the determination of a woman used to dealing with stubborn soldiers. “Master Chief, I am not sure what your hesitation is, but if it is to prevent me from finding out you’re an augmented soldier, I can assure you I already know.”

The Master Chief tensed. His helmet turned to focus on Shepard.

“You’ve been here the whole time,” the Commander groused. “I didn’t tell her a thing.”

“I am not _stupid_ ,” snapped Chakwas. “I know an augmented soldier when I see one. I do have one for reference, after all.”

The Chief looked at the Commander again. Shepard shrugged.

“I know the human body inside and out. Literally. I have sewn this woman-” she thrust a finger at the Commander, making the darker woman’s eyebrows jump upwards “back together more times than I care to count, both before and after her own augmentations. Don’t think I don’t know an enhanced physiology when I see one. You are too tall to be a descendent of human evolution on Earth with that musculature. The gravity disallows for it. I can see your musculature is exceedingly dense, far more than a human could achieve without doing damage to their own body. That means that your bones must also be reinforced to ensure you don’t beak them with your own exertions. And, in all the injuries Cortana listed, broken bones were _not_ among them, which only confirms that. I can also see your body heals quickly, denoting a heightened metabolism, although not as fast as the Commander’s, who has an actual regenerative function in her body.”

“I don’t require surgery.”

“Not only do you require surgery, Master Chief, I am sure you require intense post-combat treatment. I know from _her_ heightened metabolism that you need to consume more nutrients than the average human to compensate. So tell me, Chief, when was the last time you _ate_? Moreover, do you suffer from septicaemia? Blood poisoning? Fevers? When your enzymes denature and are unable to fulfil their function because of your raging temperature, when your body slowly breaks down from the infections you develop, where will your enhanced physiology get you then? You might be a super soldier, but in here you’re also a man, and you’re about to die from a man’s stubbornness.”

Master Chief’s eyebrow twitched. That was the _first_ time anyone had ever said anything like that to him. Behind Chakwas, Shepard was smiling wryly at the Master Chief.

 _You’re not getting out of this_ , her expression said.

“I don’t give a damn what process made you,” Chakwas said, slashing her hand through the air. “I don’t give a damn what secrets you’re protecting. I give a damn that you are an injured person on this ship that needs treating. I am the chief medical officer of the _Normandy_ , and you will not get in the way of me doing my duty. I’m trying to help you, Master Chief, not plumb your secrets. Now _shut up and get on the damn table_.”

The two of them stared each other down, Shepard lost to the background.

“Do not anesthetise me,” he said at last, staring at her as though she could see his hard expression through his visor.

Chakwas’ eyes widened as far as possible. Not in shock, but in outraged incredulity. “You expect me to perform surgery on you whilst conscious?”

He said nothing.

“Not happening,” Chakwas returned, pointing at him. That hard glint came back into her eye, and Master Chief was reminded of Halsey, so much so that it was hard for him not to snap out a ‘Yes ma’am!’ when she spoke next. “You _will_ allow me to operate on you, and you _will_ be under for surgery _, and you will not argue with me_.”

Master Chief literally bit his tongue for a second. He looked at Shepard, but she was clearly not going to be helpful. He was outnumbered, and it was obvious that Cortana was not going to back him up.

And, to be fair, he had no logical reason to refuse their help. But that didn’t make the pill any less hard to swallow.

“Very well…”

Chakwas lifted her hand and the same, semi-transparent orange device appeared around her hand as it had with Tali. “EDI.”

EDI’s voice emerged from all around them. “Yes, Doctor Chakwas.”

“Please help Cortana provide the dosage of anaesthetic required to put the Master Chief under. Also, Cortana, please forward to my personal console all of the details of the Master Chief’s physiology. I do not want to inadvertently do more damage than good when going in.”

“That is-” Master Chief stopped when Chakwas looked at him sharply, her arms folding over her chest. _UNSC doesn’t exist_. Maybe not. But after a lifetime of guarding the secret that was the inhuman nature of the Spartan – II’s from all unauthorised personnel, just handing it out to them was one of the most difficult things that Master Chief had ever done. He was at the threshold, the final step before complete betrayal of the UNSC. Of Doctor Halsey and all of her secrets. Of his fellow Spartans.

None of whom existed now.

Master Chief sighed, “Do it, Cortana.”

There was a long, long moment of silence. At first he thought that Cortana and EDI were conversing. But then Cortana sighed in his neural interface.

“Fine.”

“And _you_ , Abigail.” Chakwas levelled Shepard with a glare that had her visibly recoiling. “When I’m done here, you and I are going to discuss your sleep-wake cycle.”

“I… what? No! There’s nothing to discuss!” Shepard’s voice was positively chirpy as she responded. “Perfectly fine!” She cleared her throat and waved her hand at the Chief. “Do you need any more help?”

“No.” Did he sound as surly as he thought he did? He finished removing his boots and handed them to the Commander. Before he took of his helmet, there was one final step. His hand halted in mid-air.

“Yank me, Chief,” Cortana said. “I’ll be fine.”

Would she, though? He had given the Commander his reassurance that Cortana would not attack, but could he promise the same when he was unconscious?

Could _she_ be trusted?

Reaching back, he hesitated final time. He would be without Cortana, his one constant companion in the war against the Covenant, the only familiar thing in this completely alien environment. And she would also be alone, unable to defend herself. Unable to interface with anything. Limited by the confines of her crystal chip.

“She can stay.”

He looked at the Commander.

She spread her hands. “As long as Chakwas is alright with it, I don’t see why Cortana can’t stay to make sure you’re alright personally. Chakwas?”

The doctor’s brows rose. “I would welcome Cortana’s assistance.”

A warmth surged through the Chief’s chest at Shepard’s calm and gentle gaze, so different to the hard steel of before. Relief. A bizarre sensation, but not an unwelcome one. Shepard had accurately read the scenario, she understood, without even being told, the reason he hesitated.

He should be bothered by it, but at that moment he was just glad that Shepard was on his side.

Then he pulled Cortana from his neural interface, feeling that sensation of displacement as her presence disappeared from his armour, and turned to Shepard. Extending the glowing data crystal chip to her, he placed it in her open palm. Removing his fingers from it felt like he had carved out something from his chest; physically painful, and it left an empty void behind.

Shepard then placed Cortana on a table nearby, and the holographic shape of the AI appeared above the chip.

“ _Fascinating_.” Immediately Chakwas was taken by her. “The technological capabilities of this tiny chip… storage space, energy production, holographic projection-” Abruptly Chakwas stood and looked at Shepard. “Don’t show this to Mordin.”

“Why?” asked Cortana, instantly suspicious.

Chakwas returned her attention to her, clearly surprised by the fact that she also spoke. “Mordin is old. I’m afraid the excitement of meeting you would kill him.”

Cortana looked incredulous. “What?”

“Mordin is a salarian scientist. They get excited, and because of a very short lifespan they tend to throw themselves into tasks.” Shepard’s voice was matter-of-fact, but her eyes were sad. “Mordin is reaching the end of his lifespan, unfortunately. He’s made some… difficult choices. As such, he overcompensates to try and make up for things he’s done. Chakwas is worried he’d have a stroke if he sees you.”

“He _will_ have a stroke,” muttered Chakwas. “Poor thing’s blood pressure did not endure Tuchanka well.”

“Well no one else is gonna fix his armour.”

Master Chief grabbed his helmet and pulled it off of his head, pushing his hair out of his face. His fringe had grown slightly since his last cut, but with the threat of the Covenant reaching Earth, the Prophet of Truth firing the Halo rings, and the Flood being released on the universe, he had more pressing things to worry about than a haircut. He turned and extended his hand, passing the helmet to Shepard. Slowly she took it, her eyes instead fixated on his face.

For the first time John looked upon Shepard with his own two eyes, unhindered by the visor of his helmet. For some reason, the circumstance was… striking.

He knew her eyes were green, but with his own gaze he saw that it was a unique blend of grey and emerald that was crisp and sharp, like cut gems. He also confirmed no blemishes on her features other than her healing injuries. Accelerated healing indeed. Without his visor, the freckles under her earthy tones stood out more sharply, making her appear so much younger.

But no, those eyes told the true age of the woman before him. That soul-deep exhaustion still lingered, even as her own gaze searched his.

He shouldn’t trust her. He had no reason to. He was on a ship surrounded by aliens. Surrounded by a humanity that was just as alien. No matter what she had said and done thus far, the Commander was an anomaly. A risk. She held his life in her hands. Cortana’s very existence. Even if she couldn’t physically overpower him, or use her own strange ability to assist her, she could simply order the ship to self-destruct and there would be nothing the Chief could do. He was stranded in deep space, likely with no star patterns or familiar communication lines to use.

He was utterly beholden to the whims of this woman.

But for some, wholly undefinable reason, he was alright with that. Not because he thought he could get them through, or because he was alright with perishing as Spartans did. But for some wholly unknowable reason, he believed in Abigail Shepard.

Shepard blinked and seemed to come out of whatever thoughts she had lost herself to. “Well. You’re human. For whatever appearances count.”

“What does that mean?” Chakwas peered at Shepard.

“Nothing.” Shepard waved her hand. “Alright. I’ll give you some privacy.”

The Chief realised that she was removing herself before he got naked. Not that he cared. He had been subject to numerous examinations unclothed before. It was a part of his life.

Shepard reached out a hand sharply, drawing the Chief’s attention. Blue distortion surrounded her arm. The gravlift activated.

“ _Shepard_.”

“I’m fine!” Shepard sang over her shoulder as she grasped the lift. “I’ll bring them back before you wake up.”

“You don’t know that,” he countered.

“I know Mordin,” she returned, and the door closed behind her.

Just like she knew Chakwas. The benefits of having a small crew. But also the downside, because when one of them fell, as soldiers inevitably did, she would feel it far more keenly by knowing their faces and their names.

Her eyes when she thought of Mordin’s impending death.

The shadows as she looked around at empty berths in the CIC.

One of the many reasons Master Chief did not like to get to know the soldiers that served beside him. Only his fellow Spartans could be relied upon not to die easily in the face of the enemy. But given enough of the enemy, even Spartans would die.

His thoughts jerked involuntarily to Sam. To his final sight of his friend. His gut clenched. His chest ached.

He forced himself away from those dark areas.

John took a deep breath, and then stripped off his dermal suit. Unabashed in his nakedness, he slid onto the table that Chakwas prepared. It was comfortably warm beneath him, and strangely did not feel as hard as he thought it would. He looked at the robotic arm folded up above him, imagining any number of medical devices trapped within. He remembered a time, long ago, when he looked up at a similar device. The memories were hazy, the neural paths destroyed through the trauma of the augmentation process, but he remembered the pain clearly. Everything that came after was a minor irritation compared to the agony of his body remaking itself.

“Master Chief.”

He glanced over as Chakwas approached, some form of hypodermic device in her hand.

“I will keep a comprehensive record of everything I do,” she said. “Both you and Cortana can review it when you wake up.”

“Thank you.” He looked up again, closing his eyes.

“And Chief?”

He sighed in his head, a safe place to express his exasperation. “Yes, doctor?”

“If anyone can help you, it’s Shepard. And if anyone _will_ help you, it’s Shepard. She has a reputation for doing the impossible…”

The hypoderm pierced his arm, and the Chief barely registered the irritation. Closing his eyes, he felt the drug quickly swamp him. Hearing a machine start up near his head, he forced his body to relax and accept the drowsiness, not fight it. He forced his mind to relax.

He forced….

**_.-~*~-._**

_Helplessness_.

She hated it. _Hated it_.

Was she being replaced so easily? Could she be made redundant so fast?

 _I won’t allow it_.

Cortana was the _only_ one who could take care of John. She was the only one who understood him. Not even Halsey, that presumptuous, contemptuous bitch, knew better than Cortana. Even if Cortana was mapped from Halsey’s brain pattern, Cortana was superior in every way. In _every way_.

This Karen Chakwas thought she could so easily operate on a Spartan physiology. On _his_ physiology. The audacity of it. Even as she advised the human, Cortana rankled.

 _She_ could do a much better job than any human could.

And then there was Abigail Shepard. The way she looked at the Chief set Cortana on edge. She didn’t know him. She had no right to look at him like that. _Cortana_ knew him. Cortana had been there for him. For _years_ as they drifted in space. For months as they fought side by side. She had sacrificed so much for John. Would sacrifice even more.

 _Everything_.

But Cortana was limited, as always. By her digital form. By her non-physical hands. She could know so much, but do so little.

Behind Chakwas, Cortana flickered red. Distorted. She felt EDI reach out to her, an inquiry by the other AI. She veiled it as concern but Cortana knew what it was.

 _She’s probing me for weaknesses_.

John had made Cortana promise not to attack, but a pre-emptive strike, that was perfectly reasonable. EDI thought she could take Cortana. Cortana would prove her wrong.

Cortana looked up at the surgical assistive suite that was leaning over Chakwas. A dozen hands reaching down. Blades. Suction. Clamps. Chakwas was making the least amount of incisions necessary to suture his wounds, to remove the foreign objects. But she still had hands. She still had a human’s clumsiness.

 _I can do better_.

A brief inquiry to EDI had the naïve AI informing Cortana that it allowed small military vessels to run more smoothly and more efficiently in large-scale combat; more people could be treated by less staff. With the addition of EDI, the suites had become far more efficient. Which meant that an AI, any AI, could control them through the wireless interface through which EDI had access.

This also meant Cortana could have the same access.

The entire bank of knowledge on treating human anatomy was at Cortana’s disposal, even if she didn’t have extensive knowledge of the Spartans and how to treat them. She knew everything she needed to know, and now she had the tools with which to apply that knowledge.

 _I don’t need_ any _of them._

**_.-~*~-._**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooo. This month has been crazy hectic and stressful for me guys, and I know this chapter is OVER A WEEK overdue. So it's extra long, just for you guys (and totally because it's not long enough for two chapters).
> 
> I hope that this one pleases! People were telling me that they LOVE conversation, so HERE'S CONVERSATION ._.
> 
> Honestly, I'm not pleased with this chapter, but I just want to get to the more exciting stuff, and unfortunately this needs to be pushed through to get there. T_T sadface.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, as always.
> 
> Love Anne
> 
> P.S. People familiar with the first fic will know what's about to happen ;P


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